


The Prince Bridegroom

by Diana Williams (dkwilliams)



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Princess Bride Fusion, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 19:33:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3621675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dkwilliams/pseuds/Diana%20Williams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when the most beautiful man in the world is to marry the handsomest prince in the world - and he turns out to be a son-of-a-bitch? A story of Fighting, Fencing, Revenge, Bad Men, Good Men, Some Swell Escapes and Captures, Death, Lies, Truth, Miracles, a Little Sex. And, of course, True Love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Sincere apologies to William Goldman whose book, "The Princess Bride" is one of my favorites and which has been liberally ripped off for this parody, and to Rob Reiner, whose film adaptation of the book is priceless and one of the best adaptations I’ve seen. If you haven’t read the book or seen the movie (and I recommend it in that order) you are missing a great treat. Chapter 9 also features Gratuitous Crossovers of Fandoms-Not-Named-But-(Hopefully)-Obvious. Elizabeth, this is all your fault for giving me the idea in the first place. Samantha, Ruth, Sandy, Danni, Dot, Kiyoko, Holmes, Sue, Wombat – ladies, this is for you!

 

  
1999 MulderTorture Purple Heart for Best Slash Humor Story; Outstanding Humor Story nominee

 

* * *

  
**Introduction**

"The Prince Bridegroom" is my favorite story in the world, though I have never read it.

I suppose that sounds odd on first hearing, but let me explain and I believe it will make sense to you.

I cannot count the times that I have heard "The Prince Bridegroom" read aloud over the years of my life. One of us kids would start by quoting something from it - the Sword fight scene between the Dread Rebel-Alien Roberts and Byers, or the torture in the Pit of Despair, or - Well, it didn't really matter what, because we would start arguing over what the words actually were, and Granddaddy would come into the room to see what all the fuss was about. We would turn to him in appeal - Granddaddy was the ultimate authority on "The Prince Bridegroom" - and he would sigh dramatically and pull the book off the bookshelf. Well, that was all it took. In minutes, he would be settled on the couch with all of us around him, breathlessly awaiting the moment that he would open the book and read the opening words. Granddaddy would hold the book on his lap as if it was a sacred relic, would adjust his reading glasses on his nose, then look at each of us to make sure that we were paying complete attention to him. Once he knew we were ready, he would dramatically open the cover and begin to read:

"Chapter One - The Bride. Sort of. In a land far away there lived a beautiful young man by the name of..."

We were enthralled, enraptured, ensnared. Four little bodies struck to absolute immobility by the beauty of the words as they flowed over us, eagerly listening for our favorite parts, stifling giggles at the funny parts so we wouldn't miss a word. We even managed to keep from groaning at the kissing parts. For two hours, the plight of the beautiful Mulder and his beloved Walter held us captive until finally, at the last kiss, the last words, we would all breathe a collective sigh of relief before stampeding off to the yard for a re-enactment of the most thrilling scenes.

Usually, at some point during the story, Grampa would walk through the room on his way to his wood-shop or to fix something in the house. Hearing what Granddaddy was reading, his eyes would roll and he would heave an enormous and exaggerated sigh. And Granddaddy would look up from the book for a moment, peering over the top of his glasses at Grampa, his eyes laughing with mischief. Grampa would just shake his head and head off to his original task but, as I got older, I noticed that he always seemed to pass by the couch on his way and he just happened to brush his fingers through Granddaddy's hair as he did so. And Granddaddy would seem perfectly oblivious to the whole thing, but I swear I could hear a soft laugh.

Of course, they were not our biological grandfathers. They had taken us in and legally adopted us when our parents were killed in a freak accident while on their second honeymoon. The names "Grampa" and "Granddaddy" were some sort of joke of Granddaddy's, like the way he would tease Grampa by calling him "old man", which would make Grampa growl and pounce on Granddaddy, tickling him mercilessly. We kids would roll our eyes and - as we reached the hypersensitive teen-aged years - pray that they wouldn't embarrass us in front of our friends. They were the only parents we really knew, and they were the best parents, the best friends, and the best mentors that any kids could have ever had. And they never mixed up the four of us, not once, except on purpose when they were teasing us.

They are both gone now. Grampa died from complications of pneumonia a year ago, holding Granddaddy's hand as he slipped away with a smile on his face and Granddaddy's name on his lips. Granddaddy died just last week, quietly, in his sleep. I came back home for the funeral, the four of us together for the first time in years. I stayed afterward to settle the estate and sell the house, being the designated "oldest" of the four of us. I wandered through the house, now silent and empty, hearing in my mind the noisy tumult of four boisterous bodies, Grampa's deep laugh and Granddaddy's lighter one. A house filled with echoes of love. And then I saw the book, on the bookshelf, and I pulled it down with a smile and opened the cover.

"The Princess Bride, by S. Morgenstern. The year that Buttercup was born-"

Wait - that's not how it started! Who the heck was Buttercup and what was she doing in this story?

I closed the book and looked at the cover again. Yes, that was the cover I had seen over so many years. There was no mistake. I opened the book and began leafing through it, reading a bit here and there, and becoming more and more baffled as I read. Yes, there were the Cliffs of Insanity that I remembered, and the sword fights, but there was so much - so much - other stuff in between. Boring stuff. Incredibly, tediously boring stuff.

And then I realized what had happened.

Granddaddy had been editing it as he went along, reading all the action parts, the good parts. And subtly altering the story. Turning a story that was originally a satirical history into a story of True Love.

I kept the house. I quit my job. And I started writing an abridged version of "The Princess Bride". Granddaddy's version. And here it is. The "good parts" version, as my Granddaddy read it to me. Dedicated to them - to Walter Skinner and to Fox Mulder, from their loving "granddaughter". KS

 

 


	2. The Bride (Sort of)

CAST OF CHARACTERS:

Buttercup - Fox Mulder Westley - Walter Skinner Humperdinck- Alex Krycek Fezzik- Langley Vizzini- Frohike Inigo- Byers The King/Torturer- CSM The Count Rugen -X Albino- Kersh Miracle Max- Pendrell Witch Valerie- Scully Bishop- Crossover surprise guest star

 

[NOTE: All Narrator's Notes are in brackets].

 

Chapter One - The Bride [Sort of]

In a land far away there lived a beautiful young man by the name of Fox Mulder. Yes, that was really his name. It could have been worse - his mother wanted to call him "Buttercup" but his father put down his foot, spilling his glass of whisky, and insisted that "no son of mine will be called by such a sissy name". So they named the child "Fox". For obvious reasons, he preferred to be called by his last name.

Mulder lived in the town of Washington, DC where he worked for the FBI. He had no notion that he was one of the five most beautiful men in the world and, even if he had known this, he would not have cared. Mulder could care less about such things. There were only two things that Mulder cared about: investigating X-Files and taunting Assistant Director Walter Skinner. Day after day, he would come into the A.D.'s office with one insane request after another: "Sign my 302 to pursue the Loch Ness Monster" or "Approve my expense report and get me another cell phone" or other such nonsense. And to each command, Walter would reply only "As you wish".

And then one day Mulder noticed something strange. It happened in the Budget and Planning meeting. The women were looking at A.D. Skinner. So were the men. They were looking at Walter Skinner as if he was the open bar at the FBI Christmas party. Mulder frowned. Why? There was certainly no mistaking those looks - something about Walter Skinner interested them. Facts were facts. But what? The A.D. had eyes like warm chocolate, but who cared about eyes? And he had a nicely shaped head, if you liked that sort of thing. And he was broad enough in the shoulders, and he was certainly muscular - incredible for someone who sat behind a desk all day. And his skin was perfect and tan, but that just meant that he had been vacationing somewhere warm and sunny recently. And he wasn't that much taller than Mulder, although he seemed to be, but that was because he was more muscular...

"Oh," Mulder thought. "Oh, oh dear." And he glared at the men and women so obviously ogling the attractive Assistant Director.

There have been three great cases of jealousy since the beginning of history. Mulder's case rated a close fourth on the all-time list.

It was a very long and very green night.

He was outside Walter's apartment before dawn. He knocked. Walter appeared in the open doorway, looking half-asleep. Mulder looked at him. Then he looked away.

Walter was too gorgeous.

"I love you. I know this must come as something of a surprise, since all I've ever done is taunt you and argue with you, but I have loved you for several hours now, and every second I love you more. I thought an hour ago that I loved you more than anyone ever loved a man, but a half hour after that I knew that my previous love was a thimble of water compared to a mug of coffee. Your eyes are like coffee or chocolate, did you know that? Well they are. I love you so much more now than when you opened your door, there cannot be a comparison. There is no room in my body for anything but you. My arms love you, my ears adore you, and my knees shake with blind affection. My mind begs you to ask it something so it can obey. Do you want me to follow you for the rest of your days? I will do that. Do you want me to crawl? I will crawl. I will be quiet for you or sing for you. Dearest Walter - I've never called you that before, have I? - Walter, Walter, adored Walter, whisper that I have a chance to win your love." And with that, he dared the bravest thing he'd ever done: he looked right into Walter's eyes.

Walter closed the door in his face.

Without a word.

Mulder blindly turned away from the door telling himself it was just one of those quick little passions - you fell madly, you blinked, and it was over. Chalk it up to experience, old boy, and get on with life. Walter didn't love him and that was that.

Before he could take a step, the door opened and a strong hand reached out to pull him inside. Then the door closed again.

 

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

A long while later, Mulder sighed and said, "Does this mean you love me, too?"

"Do I love you? My God, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches. If your love were - "

"I don't understand that first one yet," Mulder interrupted. He was starting to get very excited now. "Let me get this straight. Are you saying my love is the size of a grain of sand and yours is this other thing? Images just confuse me so - I have the feeling we're on the verge of something terribly important."

"I have stayed all these years at the FBI because of you. I have made my body strong because I thought you might be pleased by a strong body. I have lived my life with only the prayer that some sudden dawn you might glance in my direction. I have not known a moment in years when the sight of you did not send my heart careening against my rib cage. I have not known a night when your face did not accompany me to sleep. Is any of this getting through to you, Mulder, or do you want me to go on for awhile?"

"Never stop."

"There has never been - "

Mulder rolled over and stopped Walter from speaking with a kiss. "If you're teasing me, Walter, I'm going to kill you."

"How can you even dream I might be teasing?"

"Well, you haven't once said you loved me."

"That's all you need? Easy. I love you. Okay? Want it louder? _I love you_. Want it backward? You love I."

"You are teasing now, aren't you?"

"A little, maybe. I've been saying it so long to you, you just wouldn't listen. Every time you thought I was answering 'As you wish' but that's only because you were hearing wrong. I was saying 'I love you' but you never heard."

"I hear you now, and I promise you this: I will never love anyone else. Only Walter. Until I die."

Walter kissed him, then said soberly, "I've got to go away, Mulder."

"Go away?" The world rocked. Mulder sat up.

"Yes."

"Because of what I said? Because of what we did?"

"Yes."

"I frightened you away, didn't I? I could kill myself." Mulder got out of bed and began pulling on his clothes with shaking hands. "Well, it's done; you've made your decision. Just because you're gorgeous and perfect, it's made you conceited. You think people can't get tired of you, well you're wrong, they can, and besides - "

A large hand pulled him back into the bed. "Stop talking for a moment, Mulder! As a special favor. Before you drive me crazy." He took a deep breath. "I can't sneak around with you like this. I'm going to destroy the Consortium. Then we can both quit the FBI, get married, and settle down in a house in the suburbs." He kissed Mulder. "I promise you, no matter what, I will always come back to you."

Mulder melted. "Would my Walter ever lie?"

 

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

It was morning and they stood facing each other across A.D. Skinner's office.

"I'm late," Walter said. "I must go. I hate to, but I must. The plane leaves soon."

"I understand."

Mulder reached out with his hand, and Walter took it in his for a moment then let go.

"Good-bye," he said again.

Mulder nodded.

Walter took a step, not turning. Mulder watched him. Walter turned.

And the words were ripped out of Mulder. " _Without one kiss_?"

There have been five great kisses since the accidental discovery of the kiss had swept across Western civilization. [Before that, couples shook hands.] Since that time, there are five kisses that everyone agrees were the most spiritual, the most passionate, the most intense, the most perfect.

This one blew them all away.

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Months passed, [well, actually it was only one month, but Mulder was not a patient man and each day seemed like a month to him] and Mulder continued working and waiting patiently for his Walter to return to him. He received letters almost every day, nothing long, just little notes like, "I found one of their labs but it was closed down and I love you" or "One of the Consortium assassins tried to kill me but I'm all right and I love you". Scully and the Lone Gunmen learned not to ask how Walter was because Mulder told them. He was supreme as usual, he was spectacular - oh, he could go on for hours. Sometimes it got a little tough for the listeners to maintain strict attention, but they did their best since Mulder loved him so completely.

Which was why Walter's death hit him the way it did.

One day, Mulder came into his office to find his partner, Dana Scully, waiting for him. Scully cleared her throat and said, kindly, "You'd better sit down, Mulder." He stared at her blankly. "I just got the news. It happened at night. One minute he was there, and they next minute they had taken him."

"Taken who?"

"Walter Skinner."

Mulder thought he'd better sit down. "Who took him?"

"The aliens. He was abducted."

Mulder drew a deep breath. "Oh. Okay. They'll return him, though, won't they? I mean, they usually do. He may have a chip in his neck or missing time or something, but they'll return him."

"It was the Dread Rebel-Alien Roberts."

Mulder's face went ashen. "Oh. The Dread Rebel-Alien Roberts. The one who never leaves survivors."

"Yes. Mulder, I'm so sorry."

Mulder blinked, then stood up, pacing around the room. "How - did they find him? His body, I mean? Was he burned like the others, or - I'm an idiot - as if it matters how he died - " He ran out of the office and home to his apartment.

He stayed there many days. He didn't answer the phone, or come to the door, or read his email, or look out his window when an alien spacecraft hovered there with the answers to every question he had ever had. And when at last he came out, his eyes were dry and his face composed.

Scully looked up when he came back into the office. "Mulder! Are you okay? Let me get you some coffee - "

Mulder waved to her to sit down. "I can get it myself, thank you."

Scully studied him carefully. In point of fact, he had never looked as well. He had been one of the most beautiful man she had ever known, but now he was a little thinner, a great deal wiser, and an ocean sadder. This man understood the nature of pain and beneath the glory of his features there was character and a knowledge of suffering. He was the most beautiful man in one hundred years. And he didn't care.

"Are you okay, Mulder?"

"Yes, Scully, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." There was a very long pause. "But I must never love again."

And he never did.

 


	3. The Groom

Prince Krycek was not really a prince. He was Alex Krycek, enlisted by the Consortium when still in the FBI Academy. A man who had switched sides so many times that only members of the Krycek Fan Club could remember which side he was on this week, and even they had to use the "best 2 out of 3" guess. Once a darling of the FBI and the Consortium, he had fallen from lofty heights to become host of a black-oil alien, a member of a right-wing militant faction, a one-armed chauffeur and - worst of all - one time lover of Marita Covarrubias. But then, amazingly, his fortunes began to mend and he became the right hand man to the Well-Manicured-Man, the only voice of sanity (such as it was) within the Consortium. He had gone from being the man-most-likely-to-be-taken-out-by-a-car-bomb to being Crown Prince of the Consortium. Of course, it helped that a year ago the Dread Rebel-Alien Roberts had turned nearly everyone else in the Consortium into toast. The only one left was CSM and, since shooting his son in a nicotine-crazed fit, he'd gone round the bend. He'd taken to spending all his days in the Pit of Despair working on his autobiography, now entitled "The Marquis de Sade was a Wuss".

Prince Krycek was a tall, slender man and was thought to be the handsomest prince in the world, although not in the same category of beauty as Mulder. He wasn't in much of a hurry to become King of the Consortium, either. It would take up too much of his time, and everything took second place in his affections to his favorite pastime.

Hunting.

Hunting was his only real love.

He made it a practice never to let a day go by without killing something. It didn't matter what. Large or small. Human or animal or alien. And his hunting skills were without peer. Once he was focused on an object, the Prince was ruthless. He never tired, never wavered, never slept. It was death chess, and he was International Grand Master.

Upon becoming Crown Prince, his first act was to use the alien bio-technology to create a bionic left arm, which greatly enhanced his ability to dispatch his prey. At first he traversed the world for opposition but traveling consumed time and took him away from the Consortium headquarters. As long as his surrogate-father [CSM] was alive there was no problem. But someday his father would die and then the Prince would be king and he would have to supply an heir and remain at the headquarters to run his kingdom. So, to avoid any future problems, Prince Krycek built the Zoo of Death. He designed it himself, with Count X Rugen's help, and he sent his minions out into the world to stock it for him. It was kept brimming with things that he could hunt and it was in a secret location underground so that only himself and the albino keeper, Kersh, knew its location.

There were five levels, all with the proper needs for his individual enemies. On the first level were the creatures of incredible speed and daring: racecar drivers, test pilots, and virus programmers. On the second level were the creatures of strength and endurance: American Gladiators, Swartzenager-wanna-bes, and insurance salesmen. On the third level were the venomous creatures: black-widow poisoners, aging movie stars, and fanfiction critics. On the fourth level were the creatures of fear: serial killers, producers of motion picture sequels, and babies with colic.

The fifth level was empty. The Prince had constructed it in the hopes of someday finding something worthy, something as dangerous and fierce and powerful as he was. Unlikely. Still, he was an eternal optimist, so he kept the fifth level always in readiness. And there was really more than enough that was lethal on the other four levels to keep a man happy.

The Prince had a great wheel with a spinner and on the outside of the wheel was a picture of every creature in the Zoo and he would twirl the spinner at breakfast. Wherever it stopped, the albino would ready that breed.

[The author goes on in this vein for several pages, telling at great length of these hunts, and praising on one hand the prowess of the Prince while at the same time decrying his lack of morals. However, since we are solely concerned with returning Mulder to the arms of his adored Walter, we're going to skip over these pages.]

One afternoon, while Krycek was grappling with his latest victim on the third level - a troll from one of the newsgroups - Count X Rugen called out from the entranceway to his Prince.

"There is important news, Your Highness."

Krycek swore as his victim attempted to break free. "Can't it wait?"

"Of course, your Highness."

Count X Rugen waited patiently while Prince Krycek dispatched the beast, then climbed up to the main level.

"Now, Rugen, what is this?"

"Your father - I mean, the Smoking Man - has had his annual physical. I have the report."

"And?"

"He's dying."

"Drat!" said the Prince. "That means I shall have to get married."

 


	4. The Courtship

Four of them met in the great council room at the Consortium headquarters: Prince Krycek, Count X Rugen, King CSM, and Queen Diana Fowley (or, as Krycek liked to call her, his Evil Stepmother or E.S. for short). They were all that was really left of the old Consortium.

"All right," the Prince asked when they were all assembled. "Whom do I marry? Let's pick a bride and get it over with."

The King nodded, blowing out smoke. "I've been thinking that it's really time for Krycek to pick a bride."

Krycek rolled his eyes at this - CSM was getting worse every day - but E.S. reached over and patted CSM's hand and said soothingly, "Of course, dear. What a good idea - as always."

"Of course, a man of your importance couldn't marry just _anyone_ ," E.S. added. She was not too keen on the idea of another woman running around the Consortium headquarters. Heaven knows there were few enough men as it was.

"True, true," Prince Krycek said. He sighed. Deeply. "This doesn't mean that I have to marry a _woman_ , though, does it? I mean, despite Marita, that's not where my preferences lie."

"Of course not," Count X Rugen said.

"Of course not," Diana, I mean E.S. said eagerly. "Dearest," she said, turning to CSM who was mumbling something with the only distinguishable words being "box of chocolate", and took his nicotine stained hand into hers. "What was the name of the son of your best friend before you had him murdered? Wolf or Coyote or something like that."

"Fox," said Count X Rugen. "Fox Mulder."

"Fox Mulder." Krycek rolled the name over on his tongue. It had a certain sound to it, and there was a certain appeal in the idea of him, the finest hunter in the world being married to a man with the name of an animal. "I wonder if he hunts. I don't care about the personality, just so long as he's good with a knife."

"I saw him several years ago," E.S. said eagerly. "He seemed lovely, though hardly muscular. I would describe him more as a thinker than a doer. But, again, lovely."

"Skin?"

"Smooth and fair."

"Lips?"

"Number or color?" asked the Queen.

"Color, E.S."

"Roseish. With a lovely protruding lower lip. Eyes largish and hazel colored."

"Hmm," said the Prince. "And form?"

"Tall and slender. Wears nice suits. And, of course, the largest collection of hideous ties in the world."

"Well," said Prince Krycek, "let's go take a look at him, shall we, Count?"

[Me again. At this point Morgenstern appears to have completely forgotten two important matters: first, that Krycek and Mulder had already met when they were partners for a short time and second, that Krycek had managed to kill or attempt to kill just about everyone Mulder loved. I'm not sure if Morgenstern decided to follow Chris Carter's lead on inconvenient prior plot points (IPPPs) or if he was counting on Mulder not remembering the above items - unbelievable given his reputed memory. My personal opinion is that he originally wrote this part with another character in mind and had to switch Krycek in when the other character bought the farm. Spender comes to mind, although I find it hard to picture Spender wresting with 100 foot long singing eels. But that's another matter. For the duration of this story, you must simply accept the premise that Mulder and Krycek have never met before.]

It was dawn when Prince Krycek arrived outside Mulder's apartment and looked around him. "Are you certain this is where he lives?"

"I am. He jogs every morning and should be coming out any minute."

"And he is truly-without-question-no-possibility-of-error beautiful?"

"Yes, your Highness."

"A Federal Agent." The Prince ran the words across his tongue. "I don't know that I could wed one of them even under the best of conditions. People might snicker that he was the best I could do."

"True. We can go back to the Consortium Headquarters without waiting, if you prefer."

"We've come this far," the Prince said. "We might as well wai-" His voice quite simply died. "I'll take him," he managed, finally, as Mulder emerged from the building.

"No one will snicker, I think," said the Count, also staring.

"I must court him now," said the Prince. "Leave us alone for a minute." He walked over to the beautiful young man engaged in stretching exercises.

Mulder looked at him out of the corner of his eyes and continued stretching. He was not in the mood to be cruised. It had been six months since the Dread Rebel-Alien Roberts had killed Walter Skinner, and Mulder had vowed to never forget his lost love. However, he had never seen such a handsome young man before, excepting his beloved Walter.

"I am Prince Krycek and you will marry me."

Mulder cleared his throat and looked at him squarely. "I don't care who you are and I refuse."

"I am your Prince - or I will be when the retrovirus destroys the rest of the human population and we are the only ones left alive - and you cannot refuse."

"I just did."

"Refusal means death."

"Kill me then."

Krycek was offended. "Hey, I'm not that bad! How could you rather be dead than married to me?"

"Because marriage involves love, and I'm not very good at that. I tried once and it went badly and I am sworn never to love another."

"Love?" said Prince Krycek. "Who mentioned love? Not me, I can tell you. Lust at the most, but never love. Look, you can either marry me and be the most powerful man in the world - next to me - and rescue your friends and family from the retrovirus, or you can die in terrible pain. Make up your mind."

"I'll never love you."

"I wouldn't want you to love me."

"Then I accept."

 


	5. The Preparations

 

[I didn't even know that this chapter existed until I began writing the "good parts" version. All Granddaddy used to say at this point was, "What with one thing and another, six months passed," and then he'd explain how the day came when Mulder was officially introduced to the world as the coming Consort. Would you believe that in the original Morgenstern book, this is the single longest chapter? And the most boring. Fifteen pages about how the Prince can't marry a commoner, ten pages on how they issue a proclamation making Mulder the prince of some small state, five pages on the failing health of the king, and then eighteen pages about how they hire miracle men to try to heal the king. And seventy-two pages on the training of a prince consort. So, in this "good parts" version, I have elected to cover only the most important parts.]

 

What with one thing and another, six months passed.

 


	6. The Announcement

 

Lafayette Park across from the White House, the new headquarters for the Consortium, was filled as never before, awaiting the introduction of Prince Krycek's Consort-to-be. Special screens had been set up to allow everyone to witness this historic occasion. No one had ever seen the young man, but rumors of his beauty were continual and each one was less possible than the one before.

At noon, Prince Krycek appeared on the front steps of the White House and raised his arms. The crowd slowly quieted.

"My people, today is a joyous day. In three weeks, our country celebrates its two hundred and twenty-fifth anniversary. To celebrate that occasion, I shall, on that sundown, take for my consort the Prince Mulder. You do not know him yet, but you will meet him now." He made a sweeping gesture and the balcony doors swung open and Mulder moved out beside him on the balcony.

And the crowd, quite literally, gasped.

The young man far surpassed the mourner of one year ago. His hair was still the same luxurious thickness and color, but now it was cared for by an expert and it glowed in the sunlight. His eyes were still the same hazel color, but sadness and loss had banished the half-asleep look they had once worn making them shine as clear as crystal and as deep as the ocean. His skin was still the same smooth texture but was daily massaged and oiled and pampered and actually appeared, in some lights, to glow as he moved.

Prince Krycek took his hand and held it high and the crowd cheered.

Most of the people there would never forget that day. Most of them had never seen perfection and the great majority adored Mulder instantly. There were some, of course, who were withholding judgment as to his quality as consort. And, of course, there were some more who were frankly jealous. Very few of them hated him. And only three of them wanted to kill him.

Mulder, naturally, knew nothing of this. He had studied hard to do things royally, so he kept his posture erect and his smile gentle, and that his death was so close would have only made him laugh, if someone had told him.

But - in the farthest corner of the Great Square, in the deepest shadow, the man in black stood waiting. His boots were black and leather. His pants were black and his shirt. His mask was black, blacker than a raven. But blackest of all were his flashing eyes.

Flashing and cruel and deadly...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Mulder was more than a little weary after his triumph so, towards mid-afternoon, he changed into his jogging clothes and went out to run. This was one aspect of his life that had not changed over the past six months. He still loved to run and every afternoon he ran alone for several hours. He did his best thinking then.

As he jogged along through the streets and around the parks, his brain was awhirl. Today, for the first time, he actually understood that his wedding was going to be reality.

And I just don't like Krycek, he thought. It's not that I hate him or anything, I just never see him. He's always off someplace working on a global conspiracy or playing in the Zoo.

To Mulder's way of thinking, there were two problems - first, was it wrong to marry without like and second, if it was, was it too late to do anything about it. He decided that the answers were no and yes, respectively. He sighed as he jogged. Don't expect too much from life, he told himself. Learn to be satisfied with what you have.

Mulder crested the hill, about half an hour from the White House. Suddenly, with a screech of wheels, a van pulled in front of him. The panel door burst open and Mulder found himself roughly grabbed and thrust inside before the van jerked off into motion again.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Mulder demanded, partly angry and partly frightened. Some kind of cloth had fallen on his face and he was struggling to see who his captors were. "What are you going to do with me? Kidnap me in some attempt to cause a war? Take me across a river filled with deadly shrieking eels? Haul me up some impossibly high cliff and then leave my lifeless body on the border?"

"Geez, Mulder, where do you get this stuff?" Frohike asked sarcastically.

Mulder pulled the pile of Star Trek convention T-shirts off of his face and sat up, staring at his friends in bewildered surprise.

"Yeah, dude," agreed Langley. "You've _got_ to expand your viewing habits. And another thing - you're lucky we _don't_ kill you. We're seriously pissed off with you. You just dropped out of sight with that stupid letter resigning from the FBI and saying that you're marrying Prince Krycek."

"He didn't give me much choice - marry him or be killed."

"Bet he made you sign a pre-nup, too."

Frohike interrupted. "Did you leave the false clue like I told you to?" he asked Langley.

"The torn sleeve from Mulder's old sweatshirt half-eaten away by that green stuff from the clones? Yes, I dropped it out of the van window, but I still don't understand why - "

Frohike sighed. "Why do you need to know why?"

"I just feel better when I know what's going on, that's all," Langley mumbled.

Frohike sighed and said patiently, "Prince Krycek will become suspicious when Mulder doesn't return and will go looking for him. Since we don't want him to know where we are _really_ going, we're making him think that the Rebels have abducted Mulder and everyone knows that the Rebels have their home base in New Jersey."

"Well, that _does_ explain some things I've wondered about concerning New Jersey," Mulder murmured.

"So Krycek will go looking for Mulder in New Jersey, while in reality we are heading in the opposite direction entirely!" Frohike beamed in anticipation of their response to his genius.

There was deafening silence.

"So where are we _really_ going?" Mulder asked, finally.

"To Skyland Mountain," Frohike said, leaning forward to meet Mulder's eyes. "There's been a series of UFO sightings there, Mulder, and someone's trying to keep the information from you. It must be important."

"Here's our turn - hold on," Byers cautioned as he took a sudden exit, just in case they were being followed.

"Are you going as fast as you can?" Frohike asked Byers.

"As much as is safe."

Frohike sat back, calculating. "We have at least two hours on them, so don't take any risks yet. We should reach Skyland Mountain before sunset."

He noticed that Byers was glancing into the rear view mirror. "Why are you doing that?"

"Making sure no one is following us."

Frohike made a face of disbelief. "That would be inconceivable."

Mulder had been quiet since he learned their destination. It had been a long time since he had taken on an X-File - not since his engagement. Mulder shook his head and looked at his friends sadly. "Despite what you think, you will be caught. And when you are, the Prince will see that you are killed."

Frohike snorted. "Of all the lives in this car, 'Highness', the one you should be worrying about is your own."

Mulder looked at him sharply. "What do you mean by that?"

Frohike sighed and exchanged a look with the other two. "Mulder, sometimes you are so naive."

Two hours passed and Frohike noticed that Byers kept looking in the rear-view mirror. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"No reason," Byers said with a shrug. "It's only that I just happened to look back and something's there."

The others turned and looked out the rear window. Something was indeed there. Less than a mile behind them on the empty road was another car, black in color, and a single man at the wheel. A man in black.

Frohike looked at Langley. "It must be a local out for a pleasure drive on a Sunday afternoon. No one in the Consortium could know what we've done or have gotten here so quickly. He is definitely not following us. It is coincidence and nothing more."

"He's also gaining on us," Byers said.

"That's inconceivable," Frohike said. "This van's been outfitted with the fastest engine possible."

"You're right," Langley said, staring back at the car. "He isn't gaining on us. He's just getting closer."

"It's the angle we're looking at," Frohike insisted.

Mulder couldn't take his eyes off the black car. For some reason that he could never explain, the man in the black car frightened him more than anyone he had ever known.

"All right, watch out for the turnoff," Frohike said to Byers. "It's very close now."

Byers maneuvered the van expertly, taking the side road as fast as possible. It wasn't easy - the road was rough gravel and dust rose from it, obscuring the road before and behind them. Mulder shielded his eyes and watched the road. Faintly, in the distance, he saw the black car take the same turn-off. His heart jumped in his throat.

"Guys, the car turned off after us."

"Impossible," muttered Frohike.

Byers suddenly pulled to a halt, nearly throwing them all onto the floor. Cursing, they picked themselves off the floor, and got out of the van to see what had happened. There, in front of them, was a blockade across the road and a notice saying that the road was closed until further notice due to a Civil War Reenactment to be staged at the park.

"Shoot!" said Frohike.

"What do we do now?" asked Byers.

Frohike looked around. "We take the sky-lift up."

They raced into the main building and Frohike swore when he saw that the computer system that operated the gondolas had been switched off and appeared disabled. Langley took a look at it, though, and soon had the system up and running.

"Get in!" Frohike yelled to Byers and Mulder, then turned to Langley. "You stay here and stop that man your way."

"And what _is_ my way?" asked Langley sarcastically.

"Disable the system once we're at the top."

Langley nodded and Frohike jumped in the gondola, pushing the controls to start. He turned to Mulder whose eyes were on the black car quickly approaching them.

"Don't worry - Langley will get us to the top."

"And if that man stops us and traps us mid-air?"

"There's no other way up unless you want to climb up the mountain."

Mulder turned and looked ahead at the mountain, then grinned. "What, climb up the Cliffs of Insanity? I may be crazy but not that crazy." He and Byers watched the approaching tower marking that they were a quarter of the way.

Meanwhile, Frohike was thinking about the man in black. There was no way that anyone could have been quick enough to follow them. And yet there he was. How? He took a deep breath and glanced down toward the ground. The man in black was there, just pulling up in his car.

Frohike picked up the mike and called on the intercom to the station. "Langley, we need to go faster!"

"You're going as fast as you safely can," grumbled Langley, but he increased power to the engine.

"And he's closing on the Cliffs," said Byers. No one had to ask who "he" was.

"Over halfway there," Mulder announced.

"He's left his car behind," announced Byers, "and he's running toward the station."

"I've got the doors locked," Langley said over the intercom. "That'll slow him down."

"He'll never catch up!" Frohike said. "It's inconceivable."

"You keep using that word," Byers snapped. "It doesn't seem so inconceivable now."

"Three-quarters," Mulder said, wishing he could get out and push the damn thing to make it go faster.

"He's breaking in the door," Langley announced.

Mulder grabbed the mike away from Frohike. "Get out of there! It's not worth getting killed over."

"Don't worry about me, Mulder - just get out of here!"

"We're there!" Byers announced, and they scrambled out of the gondola.

They looked anxiously down at the station below and could no longer see Langley standing at the controls. However, the man in black had climbed into a gondola and it was starting up the mountain.

"I don't believe this guy!" said Frohike.

"Where's Langley?" Mulder asked, then noticed there was an intercom in the guard's station. He picked up the mike. "Langley! Are you there?"

There was only silence on the other end, then a crackle and a slight moan.

Frohike took the mike. "Langley! Where the hell are you?"

"I'm here, but I've got a hell of a headache."

"He's on his way up. You've got to stop him - disable this thing."

"Okay - just give me a minute."

"He's a quarter of the way up," Byers announced from the window.

"Hurry up!" Frohike shouted at Langley. "I thought you were supposed to be good at this."

"I'm trying to work with antiquated equipment that should be in a junk heap," Langley shot back.

"Excuses, excuses," Frohike said. He looked back down again. The man in black was almost halfway up. Suddenly the gondola came to a complete stop, swaying gently on the cable but not going anywhere.

"Okay," Langley announced over the intercom. "I switched the controls over from here to your station, and I've disabled it at this end."

"Good job," Frohike said. "Head back to the van and wait for us. If you see any of Prince Krycek's people heading your way, get out of there."

"Will do."

"Oh my God!" Byers said from the window.

"What?" Frohike and Mulder rushed over to join him and stared at what Byers was pointing at. The man had climbed onto the roof of the gondola and was climbing up to the main cable. As they watched, he jumped up and they watched in amazement as the man in black hung in space, clinging to the cable with his gloved hands, several hundred feet above the ground. Mulder closed his eyes, turning away.

"He can't hold on much longer," Byers said in amazement.

At that moment, the man in black began to move hand over hand along the cable. Not quickly, and not without great effort. But still, there was no doubt that he was heading in an upward direction.

"Inconceivable!" Frohike said.

Byers turned on him. "Stop saying that! It was inconceivable that anyone could follow us, inconceivable that any car could go as fast as ours, inconceivable that he could come up after us, and there he is!"

Frohike's eyes glittered. "We cannot take the risk of him getting to Mulder and we need to stop him _here_. You stay here and stop him somehow. We'll go on the rest of the way on foot."

Byers nodded and Frohike grabbed Mulder, dragging him out of the building.

 

 


	7. The Man in Black

 

Byers watched the man climbing steadily towards them and tried to think of a way to stop him. The phones were out of order so there was no way to call for help. A quick look through the main room revealed no weapons of any kind. He went into the office and looked through the drawers but found nothing. Then, when he was turning back toward the main room, he saw the pile of Civil War gear in the corner. He quickly went through the stack and smiled as he unearthed two cavalry swords.

Unknown to his friends, Byers had a secret life. He had once fallen in love with a beautiful but troubled woman, a woman that he saw snatched away before his eyes by a black man with four fingers on his left hand [Okay, so everyone has four fingers - we all know that Morgenstern _meant_ three fingers and a thumb]. He had never given up the idea that he would one day find her and rescue her. He had been on the college fencing team - had been pretty good, actually - and had taken up the sport again. He had thrown himself into improving, cherishing the idea of fighting his way to his lady's side, and had become the best amateur fencer on the East Coast. Now an idea came to his head and he went out onto the observation deck.

"Hello there!" he called to the man in black who was slowly but surely progressing towards him. "Slow going?"

The man paused and looked in his direction. "I don't mean to be rude," he yelled back, "but I'm rather busy right now. This isn't as easy as it appears."

"Sorry." Byers watched for a few minutes. "Do you fence?"

The man looked puzzled. "As a matter of fact, I do."

"Good." Byers went back inside and fetched the swords, checking their balance and selecting one, then went back outside with both of them. He watched the other man slowly making his way along the cable for several minutes. "I don't suppose you could speed things up?" he called out to the other man.

The man looked at him, then along the length of the cable as if estimating the distance. "If you're in such a hurry, you could find some way to help me."

"I could do that but I don't think you would accept my help, seeing as how I'm waiting for you to get here so I can fight you."

"Well, that _does_ put a damper on our relationship. I'm afraid you'll just have to wait."

"Oh." He began pacing, nervous energy building up in him. "I hate waiting," he muttered and paced some more. "What if I promised that I wouldn't do anything to hurt you till you get up here?" he called out to the man in black. "If I promised on my word."

"I'm afraid I don't have much faith in anyone's word anymore."

"I swear to you on the soul of the woman I love."

The man nodded. "I accept. What do you have in mind?"

"Hold on." Byers started up the gondola, inching it forward until it was just below the man in black. The man let go and dropped to the roof, and Byers increased the speed of the car until it arrived at the station.

The man in black hopped off the roof of the car and Byers saw that he was breathing hard but he moved towards the sword that Byers had set out for him.

"Take a few minutes to catch your breath," Byers offered. "We'll wait till you're ready."

"Thank you." The man dropped into a chair. Byers sat down in the chair across from him, studying him curiously.

"I have the feeling that we've met before," Byers said curiously. "Of course, it's a little difficult to tell since you're wearing that mask and hood. Just out of curiosity, why?"

The man shrugged. "I like the look. I have a feeling that this is going to be the fashion look next year."

"Let me see your left hand," Byers demanded and the man looked puzzled but held up his hand. Byers sighed in disappointment. "Sorry. I thought you might be someone I've been looking for. A black man with four fingers on his left hand."

"Last time I checked I wasn't black."

Byers shrugged. "We've seen a lot of shape-shifters, so it was possible that you could have changed your appearance."

"What's so important about this man? Why are you looking for him?"

"Ten years ago," Byers said in a quiet, serious voice, "I met a very special woman. Suzanne Modeski. She was a research scientist that got involved in a special project. Unknown to her, the project was designed to test a mind-altering chemical on unsuspecting citizens. She tried to stop it, tried to tell people what was going on, but no one believed her. I believed her. We managed to stop them - the chemical was moved or destroyed, we never found out for sure. And Suzanne saved our lives - mine and Frohike and Byers and Mulder. But then they got her - snatched her off the street right in front of me. It was a black man with four fingers on his left hand. Two days later, I got this in the mail." He held up his left hand, showing the man the ring he wore. "It was Suzanne's, and I know she's alive somewhere. I've been looking for her, and looking for him."

"What are you going to do when you find him?"

"I'm going to look him in the eye, and I'm going to say, `Hello, my name is John Fitzgerald Byers. You kidnapped Suzanne Modeski. Prepare to die.' And then I'm going to kill him."

The man in black drew in a deep breath. "I hope you find him - and her."

Byers looked at the man. "Thank you. Are you rested now?"

The man nodded, standing up and stretching. "Yes. Shall we begin?"

Byers sighed. "You seem a decent fellow. I hate to kill you."

"You seem a decent fellow, too," said the man in black. "I hate to be killed."

"But one of us must be." Byers took his sword in his left hand. He was good with his left hand - not as good as with his right hand, but good enough to win all his recent competitions. The man in black was also left-handed and Byers was pleased - that made things fairer.

They touched swords and began to test each other, first one advancing and the other retreating, then reversing. Sword rang against sword, each studying his opponent, and analyzing his moves. Byers noticed that, close up, the other man was slightly taller and more muscularly built but he wasn't worried. In this sport, quickness and finesse counted for more than strength.

Byers spoke first. "You are using Bonetti's defense against me?"

"Only fitting, considering the rocky terrain."

"Naturally, you must expect me to attack with Capo Ferro."

"Naturally, but I find that Thibult cancels out Capo Ferro, don't you?"

"Unless one's opponent knows his Agrippa, which I do."

Byers had been on the attack as they moved along the observation deck, backing the man in black up until he reached a low wall overlooking a flat area to the side of the building. The man in black leaped down lightly, and Byers followed. He was impressed with the quickness of the man in black as he landed and recovered. Most men his size would have gone down, at least to one knee, but the man simply wrenched his body erect and continued fighting. He began attacking Byers now, driving him back, his sword flashing with his quick movements.

"You are wonderful!" Byers said.

"Thank you," the man in black replied. "I have worked very hard to become so."

"I admit that you are better than I am."

"If that is true, then why are you smiling?"

"Because I know something that you don't know."

"And what is that?"

"I'm not left-handed." And with those words Byers threw his sword into his other hand and the tide of battle turned.

The man in black retreated before the slashing of the sword in Byers' hand. He tried to side step, tried to parry, but he was forced back, retreating until he was trapped against the wall.

"You are amazing!" he said as his sword arm was pinned by Byers' body.

"Thank you. It has not come without effort. But why are you smiling?"

"Because I am not left-handed either." The man in black forced Byers back and switched hands.

The battle turned again. Byers began to retreat. The man in black was incredibly fast and neatly knocked the sword out of Byers hand but allowed Byers to retrieve it. Byers did so and swung to face the man in black, awe on his face.

"Who _are_ you?" he demanded.

"No one of import."

"I must know!" Byers insisted.

"Get used to disappointment."

Byers shrugged. "Okay."

The competition was fierce now, each knowing that this was the final effort. They flashed along the open plateau, both blades impossibly fast, and - unbelievably - the man in black was superior. Not much, but enough. A final flick and the sword went flying from Byers' hand. This time he was not allowed to retrieve it, and the man in black stood with his sword point at Byers' throat. Byers stood there, breathing heavily for a moment, then dropped to his knees and closed his eyes.

"Do it quickly."

"I could never kill an artist like yourself. However, since I cannot have you following me either - " He clubbed Byers head with the butt of his sword and the man fell unconscious. The man in black knelt for a moment and checked the pulse. "Please understand that I hold you in the highest respect."

Then the man in black stuck his sword in his belt, searched out the trail of his prey, and raced off in pursuit.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Frohike and Mulder were standing on the top of the hill, Frohike staring up at the sky while Mulder looked back in the direction they had come. He had an uneasy feeling. The feeling changed to outright terror when he saw the man in black walking toward them.

"Frohike - look!"

"I don't believe it!" Frohike exclaimed. "Okay, go with me on this, Mulder."

He pulled Mulder's gun out of its holster, grabbing Mulder and holding the gun against his head.

"Don't come any closer or he dies!"

"You're assuming that I care whether he lives or dies," said the man in black.

"If you didn't care, you wouldn't have followed us all this distance."

"I could be after him just for the ransom. Tell you what," said the man in black. "You seem like an extremely smart man. What about a contest of wits?"

"For Mulder?" Frohike was intrigued. "What kind of contest?"

The man in black indicted the coffee thermos at Frohike's feet, then pulled out a vial. "Pour us each a cup of that. I'll add this to one of the cups. It's a black oily substance that takes over the body, causing paralysis and eventually death. There is no known antidote. You guess which cup this oil is in and then we both drink. The winner is the one who lives."

Frohike was good at these games so he agreed. Mulder protested, trying to argue with Frohike, until the man in black finally pulled out a black cloth.

"Gag him, or you'll never be able to concentrate. And handcuff him, too."

Frohike agreed over Mulder's protests and soon had him sitting on the ground, gagged with his hands handcuffed behind him, helplessly watching the other two men. Frohike poured coffee into two cups, then the man in black took the two cups and turned his back while he added the contents from the vial to one of the cups. The he set the cups carefully in front of them.

"Choose."

Frohike studied the cups first, looking to see if there was a visible indication of the presence of the oil, but saw nothing. He looked up at the man in black for a long moment but what could be seen of the man's face under the mask was impassive. Then Frohike smiled.

"It's all perfectly clear. All I have to do is deduce, from what I know of you, the way your mind works. Are you the kind of man who would put the oil in his own glass or into the glass of his enemy?"

"You're stalling."

"It's really very simple. Only a fool would choose the cup sitting in front of him and I am not a fool, so I clearly cannot choose the cup in front of me. However, you know that I am not a fool, so I can clearly not choose the cup in front of you." Frohike watched carefully for the other man's reaction.

"You must choose one of them."

"Wait, I'm not done. You see, I know a little something about this black oil of yours, and I know that the Consortium and their alien allies are the ones behind its distribution. As we all know, the Consortium is made up of criminals and one should never trust a criminal, so I can clearly not choose the cup in front of you."

"Fascinating," the man in black said politely.

"It gets better!" Frohike said in excitement. "You must have known that I knew the origins of the oil and that I would understand criminal behavior, so I clearly cannot choose the cup in front of me."

"Truly you have a dizzying intellect," the man in black said mockingly. "You're just trying to make me give something away with all this chatter. Maybe I should have gagged _you_ instead. You'll learn nothing from me."

"Oh, but I already have. I know where the oil is."

"Shall we drink then?"

"Look! What's that?" Frohike asked, suddenly pointing behind the man in black. He turned to look, and Frohike quickly switched the cups.

"What?" asked the man in black.

"I could have sworn I saw something."

"Enough of this," the man in black said impatiently. "Make your choice."

Without hesitation, Frohike picked up the cup in front of himself and drained it. The man in black smiled faintly and drank his cup as well.

Frohike began to laugh.

"What is so funny?" said the man in black. "You guessed wrong."

"You only think I guessed wrong, but I know something that you don't know." Frohike grinned. "I switched cups."

The man in black seemed to freeze in place. "Really?"

"Hah! I got you!" Frohike said in triumph. He turned to Mulder, removing his gag and getting out the handcuff key. "You should have known better - I'm unstoppable at strategy." Frohike began to laugh, then, suddenly, drew in a sharp breath and fell over on his side.

"You killed him!" Mulder said in disbelief.

"He's not dead," the man in black said shortly, pulling out another vial and forcing the contents between Frohike's lips. "But he will have a hell of a headache when he wakes up."

"You told him that there was no antidote."

"I lied," said the man in black. "Something you should be very familiar with."

He grabbed Mulder and began dragging him toward the road.

"Wait!" Mulder said, gasping. "Undo these handcuffs - I'll fall trying to run with these on."

The man in black released him immediately and spun him around to unlock the cuffs.

"So the black oil was in your cup all along."

"It was in both cups," said the man in black. "I've already taken the antidote so I'm immune to it."

Mulder looked at the man. He was terrifying. Tall and masked and hooded and dangerous, his voice rough, his manner arrogant and threatening. "Who are you?"

Dark eyes glittered at him from behind the mask. "I am no one to be trifled with. That is all you ever need to know." And with that he yanked Mulder roughly to his feet. "You've had your chance to catch your breath." He pulled Mulder after him and he could do nothing but follow.

They moved along the path away from the main road. The sun was getting low but it was still light enough to see clearly enough. Mulder glanced over at the hooded figure and brought all his profiling skills into play, trying to determine what it would take to get the man to release him unharmed.

"I will pay you whatever ransom you are demanding."

"You are rich?"

"Yes. Whatever you want for ransom, I promise I will get it for you if you'll let me go."

The man in black just laughed. "You promise? Oh, that is very funny, 'Highness'. I'm afraid that I don't trust your promises." They had reached the end of the path and the man in black stopped, looking about him as if for landmarks, and then looked up into the sky where the moon was just visibly in the darkening sky. Without warning, he spun off the path, heading into the woods, pulling Mulder after him.

Mulder stumbled and the man in black pulled him to his feet as Mulder protested, "I cannot move this fast!"

The man closed his fist in the front of Mulder's sweatshirt and nearly lifted him off the ground with one hand. "You can! And you will! Or you will suffer greatly. Do you think I could make you suffer greatly?" Mulder nodded. "Then run!" He released Mulder and broke into a run, pulling Mulder after him. He did his best to keep up. He was afraid of what would happen if he did not.

After fifteen minutes of running, the man in black stopped dead. "Catch your breath," he ordered. Mulder nodded, gasping in air, trying to still his heart.

Then they were off again, with no warning, dashing across the mountainous terrain.

"Where are you taking me?" Mulder gasped when, after another fifteen minutes, he was given a chance to rest. There was no answer and Mulder tried to shore up his flagging confidence. "It doesn't matter. He will find you."

"'He', Highness?"

"Prince Krycek. There is no greater hunter. He can track anything."

"You have great confidence that your dearest love will save you, do you?"

Mulder felt stung by the harsh tone to the man in black's voice. "I never said that he was my dearest love, and yes he will save me."

"You admit that you do not love your husband-to-be?"

"The Prince has known from the beginning that I do not love him."

"Are not capable of love is what you mean." The voice was cold, the words like ice.

"I am very capable of love. I have loved more deeply than a killer like you can possibly imagine." He wondered why he was trying to defend himself to this stranger.

The man in black slapped Mulder across the face. "That is the penalty for lying, Highness."

"But I spoke the truth - " Mulder saw the man's hand rise again and stopped speaking, stopped trying to defend himself. The man dropped his hand and turned away from him, breathing heavily.

They began to run again. They did not speak again for hours. They just ran and rested then ran again.

It was close to midnight when they saw the Armada.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

They were running along the edge of a ravine, seeming to be almost at the top of the world. When they stopped, Mulder sank down to the ground to rest. The man in black stood silently looking down below them.

"Your love comes but not alone."

Mulder stood and stared in the direction he was looking. Far below them on the road were the headlights of hundreds of vehicles.

"He must have ordered out everyone in the Consortium and half the army."

"You can't escape him," Mulder said. "If you release me, I promise that you will come to no harm."

"You are too generous. I would never accept such an offer."

"I offer you your life - "

The man in black's hands were suddenly at his throat. "If there is talk of life to be spared, I will be speaking."

Mulder stood perfectly still, trying not to breathe, not to antagonize the man further. "You won't kill me. If you were going to do that, you would have killed me back there instead of dragging me after you."

"Wise as well as loving," he said with a sneer. He released Mulder, and he sank down to the ground, trying to still his racing heart.

"I know who you are," Mulder said evenly, trying not to betray his shaking. "Your cruelty betrays you. You are the Dread Rebel-Alien Roberts. Admit it."

"With pride. What can I do for you?"

"You can die slowly, cut into a thousand pieces."

Roberts laughed softly. "Hardly complimentary, Your Highness. Why the venom?"

"You killed my lover," Mulder said quietly.

Roberts shrugged. "It's possible. I've killed a lot of people. Who was this love of yours? Another prince like this one? Or a rich merchant?"

"No," Mulder said sharply. "An ordinary man. A gentle man. And perfect. With eyes soft and brown as the earth - " He turned and said sharply, bitterly, "You abducted him a year ago, and the Dread Rebel-Alien Roberts leaves no survivors."

"I can't afford to make exceptions. Once word gets out that an Alien's gone soft, people begin to disobey, and then it's nothing but work, work, work."

Mulder was angry. "You mock my pain!"

"Life _is_ pain, Highness, and anyone who tells you different is trying to sell you something." He stood up and looked back down at the road at the Armada below them and said, musingly, "To be honest, I didn't expect quite so many."

"You can never predict the Prince. That's why he is a great hunter."

"So what will he do now?" Mulder was silent. "Come now - surely he has discussed his hunting technique with you?"

"We don't talk about hunting."

"Not hunting, not love - what _do_ you talk about?"

Mulder shrugged. "We don't see that much of each other."

"A tender couple." It was said with a sneer again.

"We are very honest with each other. Not everyone can say as much." Mulder stood and approached the man in black. "Why do you pick at me? I have come to terms with my life, and I have decided that it is best for me to ignore emotion. I loved once, with all my heart and soul, and you killed him."

"It's just as well, before he found out just how little your faithfulness meant."

Mulder felt anger flare up in him, quenching the fear and fatigue, and he turned on the man in black fiercely. "Do not mock me! He died, and I died that day as well!"

"Indeed? And how long did you wait after his death before becoming engaged to your prince? A day? A week?"

There was a sound from the road below them, and the man in black was momentarily distracted by it. Enraged by the taunting voice, Mulder took advantage of the moment and shoved the man with all of his strength.

"You can die, too, for all I care!"

For a moment the man in black teetered on the edge of the ravine, then he toppled and began sliding down the side toward the bottom.

And in the air around Mulder echoed the words - "As..you..wish.."

 


	8. The Fire Swamp

 

As the wind carried the words back up to Mulder, his face went ashen.

"Walter?"

In moments, he was on his way down into the ravine, half-falling and half-sliding. The man in black was lying at the bottom of the ravine, his clothing a little worse for the abrasion on the way down, but he was breathing. Mulder threw himself at the man, tearing off what remained of the mask and hood to reveal the beloved features underneath. He touched Walter's face with trembling fingers.

"I thought I'd never see you again," he murmured.

Walter pushed himself into a sitting position. "I'm a hard man to kill."

"So it would seem."

Then Mulder was in Walter's arms, kissing him over and over, professing his love again and again -

[At this point, one of my brothers would invariably start making gagging noises and my sister would giggle. If Grampa was in the room, he would look sternly at Granddaddy and remind him of the age of his audience. Granddaddy would look at him innocently as if to say, "Who me?" and skip on to the Fire swamp. So I never found out what exactly transpired in that tender reunion. Imagine my disappointment to find that the Morgenstern book sanctimoniously states that such personal moments should be private and skips it as well. I have no such scruples.]

\- while Walter was assuring Mulder that his affections were entirely reciprocated. Few words of any sense were spoken for quite some time, and when Mulder began to ask what had happened to Walter he was hushed by insistent lips that murmured, "Not now, Mulder. We'll talk about it later," and he was pleasurably distracted from his questions. So it was some time before sanity began to restore itself to either of their minds. By this time, the first light of pre-dawn was beginning to drive away the shadows.

"We can't stay here," Walter said, standing up and giving a hand to Mulder to help him up. "Your prince is on our trail and only about an hour behind us."

Mulder looked up the steep sides of the ravine. "It'll take us longer than that to climb back up."

Walter nodded, looking around him. "We can't take the time. We'll follow this ravine - it should take us to the bay."

Mulder nodded and laced his fingers with Walter's as they began running again.

What Walter didn't tell Mulder at the moment, what he was still trying to figure out how to tell Mulder, was that the fire swamp lay before them. And beyond that - beyond that - Walter sighed. He had a _lot_ of explaining to do.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Prince Krycek stood at the bottom of Skyland Mountain, staring up towards the top, which was just barely perceivable in the dark. The gondolas swung silently in the pre-dawn breeze, gleaming faintly in the moonlight. A quick investigation had revealed that the computer control at this end had been thoroughly disabled and, short of bringing in a new console, there was no way to operate it at this end.

He turned to Count X Rugen and gestured towards the heavy bars across the road. "I want the road cleared within the next fifteen minutes." His voice was cold as ice and sharp as the stiletto that he tapped against his hand, and several of the men within sound of that voice trembled. The Count nodded and signaled to a group of men with a box of explosives to move forward.

Krycek studied the ground around him with narrowed eyes. This was a hunt like any other hunt. It did not matter if you were after an antelope or a bridegroom-to-be; the procedures were the same. You gathered evidence and then you acted.

Yes, a van had stood here for quite a while and the black car still parked there had arrived shortly afterwards. He checked out the car but found nothing unusual about it. The van had left again, not too long ago, moving at a high rate of speed. But, although Mulder had been in it when it arrived, he was not in it when it left - of this he was certain.

He walked back up to the gondola station, observing the broken door. Someone inside had secured it only to have it broken down from the outside. He squatted, studying the tracks. One man, a big man. He followed the tracks inside. There had been a brief struggle between the large man and a man of average size. Not Mulder. Someone smaller, less muscular. The big man had triumphed and the other man had lain over here for a short time. A few minutes, no more than that. He followed the tracks out to the platform; the big man had boarded one of the gondolas. Presumably, this was before the controls had been sabotaged. He glanced up the hill, unable to see much as it was still too dark. However, it would be dawn by the time they got to the top and he would be able to determine more at that time.

He looked around again. The other man had gone out through the broken doorway and back down toward the parking lot, presumably into that van. One man alone? he thought and shook his head. No, just one man would never have overpowered Mulder and, presumably, he had gone up the mountain in the gondola with someone other than the big man.

He left the building, walking briskly toward his car, hearing but ignoring the shouted command to take cover. An explosion rent the air, bits of debris raining down on them, but his attention was focused on his goal. He snapped his fingers at one of the men.

"You. Drive."

The man swallowed hard and ran to open the door for Krycek, closing it behind him. Then he pulled open the driver's door and pulled out the body of the former driver, trying not to look at the wide and staring eyes or the hole in the base of his skull. He hurriedly got in and started the car, acutely aware of the man sitting behind him. His neck felt naked and vulnerable, and he prayed that he wouldn't cause Prince Krycek to lose his temper.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

"We're going into _that_?"

To give him credit, Mulder's voice did not betray the near panic he felt as he stared into the murky depths of the Fire Swamp.

"Of course," Walter said, matter-of-factly. "We cannot go backward - your former fiance, is pursuing us and will not be pleased with this change in your wedding plans. Therefore, we must go forward." He pulled out his sword and tested the edge.

"But - no one has ever gone into the Fire Swamp and come out alive."

Walter smiled. "Then we shall be the first. Think of the stories we'll have to tell our grandchildren someday."

Mulder muttered, "If we live long enough to _have_ grandchildren. Which I sincerely doubt."

Walter took Mulder in his arms and said softly, "I did not come across the world to lose you now."

Mulder searched for something in his eyes and found there the courage to continue forward. He nodded and Walter squeezed his shoulders approvingly, then turned to start hacking his way into the swamp.

"So what happens when we get to the other side?"

Walter didn't look at Mulder as he slashed a pathway. "My ship is waiting on the other side."

"You have a boat?"

"Not exactly. It's a spaceship."

Mulder absorbed that. "So - when you said that you were the Dread Rebel-Alien Roberts, you weren't kidding."

"I'm afraid not."

"But I don't understand. Roberts has been around for fifty years - there are rumors that he's been operating against the colonists since Roswell. You just disappeared a year ago."

"Well, it's kind of a long story, Mulder - "

"I think we have the time," Mulder said in a voice that indicated dire consequences for Walter if he didn't cough up the story. Not to mention sleeping on the couch. Alone. For a long, long time.

Walter sighed. "I _was_ abducted by Roberts. I don't know why he spared my life - I just looked him in the face - or what passed for his face with his eyes and mouth sewn shut - and said `please'. He - morphed a human looking face and asked me why.

"'Why,' he said. `What do you have worth living for?' And I said, `True love.' Then I told him about you, how I had to stop the Consortium so that we could be together. It just so happens that he wanted to stop the Consortium, too, so he said to me, "Well, I'll let you live as long as you can be of use to me. It'll probably be just for a day - I'll most likely kill you in the morning.' And that's how we passed the next six months. We worked together, along with his crew, locating and destroying labs. And every night he would say, `Good job today, Skinner. Good night. I'll probably kill you in the morning.'

"By the end of six months, as you can imagine, we had become friends. I learned a great deal from him, fencing and hand fighting and I have never been in as excellent physical condition. At the end of six months, I had become his second-in-command. Then one day he took me aside and said, 'I am going to tell you a great secret. I am not really the Dread Rebel-Alien Roberts. My name is Ben Hathaway, and I was a traveling salesman when the Dread Rebel-Alien Roberts captured me, just like I captured you. And spared me, just like I spared you.' 'What happened to him?' I asked and Roberts - I mean Hathaway - shrugged. 'He got tired of this and wanted to retire. So he took the ship back to base, replaced them with a new crew, and pretended that I was Roberts until the new crew was assured that I was indeed Roberts. You see, it's the _name_ that matters.' 'Why are you telling me?' I asked and he replied, 'I'm tired, son, and I want to settle down in a little place and raise vegetables. So I chose you to pass this on to.'

"Well, I refused at first and he said, 'You want to get back to that beautiful creature of yours, don't you? The one that's searching for all the answers?' I had told him quite a bit about you during those six months, you see. And he continued, 'If you become the Dread Rebel-Alien Roberts, you'll learn the answers to all his questions and more, and then you can return to share them with him.' So I agreed." Walter looked sideways at Mulder as if gauging the reaction to that admission.

"And if you had said no?" Mulder asked. His voice was even but Walter thought he could detect the underlying anger. After all, the man had spent the past year believing that his lover was dead.

"He would have killed me, friends or not. I knew his secret."

"Oh. Well, then, I guess you did what you had to. Did you get the answers to all your questions?"

Walter looked at Mulder directly. "That, and more. I'll tell you everything when we have the time and leisure."

"What happened next?"

"We returned to their base and switched crews. He stayed on with me for months until he was certain that I could handle the responsibility, then he retired and I took over completely. Then I came looking for you and I found out that you were engaged to the Prince. I was a little - angry."

Mulder grinned. "A _little_?"

"Okay, I was a _lot_ angry. I mean, Mulder - you were engaged to someone else!"

Mulder stopped and stared at Walter in disbelief. "Walter - you were _dead_! And he said I had a choice between marrying him and dying. I did what I had to do." He said that pointedly, reminding Walter of their earlier conversation regarding Walter's decision.

Walter reached out to cup Mulder's cheek with his hand. "Death is nothing to us. What we have is stronger than anything in this world or the next. And I swear to you - no matter what, I will always come back to you."

Mulder smiled through sudden tears. "I will never doubt you again."

They leaned closer and would have kissed except for a sudden popping noise that sounded near them followed by a sudden burst of flame. It caught them both unaware and the tip of the flame ignited the bottom of Mulder's jacket. Walter immediately pushed him to the ground and rolled him to extinguish the flame, then smiled encouragingly at Mulder.

"There, that's got it. Did you get singed?"

Mulder shook his head wordlessly; only his jacket had been burned thanks to Walter's quickness. "You?" he managed to ask. Walter shook his head and smiled, holding out his hand to help Mulder up.

"Shall we continue? You know, once you get used to it, this place isn't too bad."

Mulder stared at Walter in disbelief.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

On the top of Skyland Mountain, Prince Krycek got out of the car and began studying the area. First he studied the gondola but found nothing of interest there. Then he studied the observation deck and the ground surrounding it and determined two things. First of all, a fencing match had taken place and second, both of the combatants were excellent fencers. The stride length, the quickness of the foot feints, all clearly revealed that they were at least masters. He traced the pattern of the duel, following as it ranged back and forth, puzzled by indications that both of the fighters had, at some point, changed hands as if their primary fighting arm was injured and yet there was no blood anywhere around. Stranger still, the battle did not end in death. He knelt by the outline of a body. A man had lain here unconscious, but there was no blood.

"There was a mighty duel," Prince Krycek said to the Count. "My guess would be that whoever fell here ran down that way," and he indicated the road they had just come up, "while the other went off along the forestry trail, following the path taken by Prince Mulder."

"Shall we follow them both?" the Count asked.

"No. The one that fled down the mountain is long gone. The other has gone after Prince Mulder, and that's all that matters at the moment. And we can't afford to split our forces since we don't know the nature of the situation we are being led into."

"You think this is a trap then?"

"I always think everything is a trap until proven otherwise," said Krycek. "Which is why I'm still alive."

And with that he got back in the car and told the driver to follow the forestry trail. The Count signaled to his men to get back in their vehicles and to follow the Prince.

 

* * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

They had been in the Fire Swamp for two hours, moving silently now as they concentrated on listening for the warning pops that signaled a burst of flame. Mulder was also uneasily aware that there was _something_ else out there and remembered rumors of Rodents of Unusual Size or R.O.U.S. that lived in the swamp. He glanced about them as he walked but only managed to catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. He was concentrating so hard on their unseen followers that he didn't see the Snow Sand until he had already stepped into it and then it was too late.

Before he could even scream, he was gone. It was like falling through a cloud. The sand was so fine that there was no bulk to it at all, just this soft powdery mass, and he was falling deeper into it but he refused to panic. He knew just what to do and spread his arms and fingers, imitating a dead-man's float to slow down the rate at which he was sinking. His ears were caked with sand, his eyes sealed shut, his nose filled with the Snow Sand and he knew that if he opened his mouth it would be flooded with the sand.

He held his breath, praying for Walter to find him, but the weight of the sand was starting to hurt his shoulders and his lungs ached from the lack of oxygen and his whole body was beginning to ache. And the Snow Sand was so soft and he was so tired...

Walter had just turned back to speak to Mulder when he saw his lover disappear right before his eyes. Thinking quickly, he grabbed a long vine and wrapped it around his waist and dove into the Snow Sand. There was no question in his mind of failure. The Snow Sand blocked his ears and nose and he hoped that Mulder hadn't panicked, had remembered to try to float. If he had, it would be like rescuing a drowning swimmer in murky water. All he had to do was find the young man, grab onto him, and pull them both back to the surface.

His grasping hands slid past wide spread fingers and, at first, he thought it was a skeleton trapped in the sand and stripped clean. But then the fingers moved, clutching at his, and he gripped them firmly, moving up to find the wrist and taking a firmer hold. Then he turned himself around, grabbed hold of the vine, and began pulling them both back to the surface.

They burst out of the sand, burning lungs gasping for air and the first lung full of sulfur air was as sweet as ambrosia. They lay there for a long moment, half in and half out of the sandpit before Walter could summon enough strength to drag them both clear. Mulder lay still, semi-conscious, and Walter scraped the sand off him as best he could, out of the ears and nose, away from the eyes, becoming more disturbed by the continued stillness of his lover. Walter shifted the younger man onto his lap, holding him in his arms and rocking slowly until finally the beautiful hazel eyes blinked open.

"We're alive?" he whispered.

"We're a hardy breed."

Mulder blinked hard, fighting down something but whether it was panic or hysteria or laughter Walter could not tell. Finally, Mulder took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet.

"Okay, Mulder?" Mulder nodded. "Come on. We've got a long way to go still."

Mulder sighed and followed.

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

When the Count caught up with the Prince again, he was kneeling next to a rock that had obviously served as a table at some point. Two glasses stood on the table and he picked them up, sniffing at them cautiously and then studying the contents.

"Black oil," he said, holding it out to the Count. "I recognize it from intimate association." He studied the ground around the rock. "Prince Mulder was still alive at this point. Two men - but not Mulder - sat at this rock and drank. One fell over - presumably infected with the retrovirus. The other ran off in that direction taking Mulder with him. Interestingly enough, the infected man revived and went off downhill - no doubt to join his co-kidnappers. So the big man must had administered the antidote, but why? I wouldn't."

He gestured to the Count and climbed into a jeep to continue the pursuit for the land had gotten too rough for the car. After awhile, he ordered the jeep to stop and got out, studying the ground again.

"Odd," he said to the Count. "Two people stood here for a time, then one fell into the ravine and the other went down after it. Neither came back up and neither is lying at the bottom now. Now, if Prince Mulder was the one who fell, then why did the other man go down after him? And if the other man fell, why didn't Prince Mulder run back toward the observation station? And if both of them reached the bottom alive, why did they choose to head off in that direction instead of climbing back up?"

"Perhaps he thought he could make better time running along the ravine floor?"

"Perhaps. But it's odd that a man who is a master fencer, incredibly strong, and obviously quick-witted would not know what this ravine opens into."

"And what is that?" asked the Count.

"The Fire Swamp."

"We're not going in there after him?" asked the Count, alarmed.

"No. They'll either live or die in there. If they die, I have no wish to join them. If they live - I'll greet them on the other side." He turned to the Count. "Send out all your men to surround the other side of the Fire Swamp."

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

They had been in the swamp for four hours when Walter noticed that the R.O.U.S. were starting to show themselves more clearly. He said nothing; no need to worry Mulder any more than need be. The younger man was clearly exhausted and it was not surprising. He had been on his feet for over twenty-four hours without sleep, had not eaten in almost as long, and had been dragged though one physical ordeal after another. And then there had been the emotional ordeals: his flight from his unknown pursuer, the discovery that it was Walter and that his lover was alive, their emotional reunion, and then everything that occurred in the fire swamp so far. Walter had been through similar stress but he had become accustomed to hardship over the past year. So he concentrated on keeping up Mulder's spirits by relating some of the humorous aspects of his adventure over the past year.

Mulder wasn't fooled by what Walter was doing but he was grateful nonetheless. Besides, he loved listening to Walter's voice as he told his stories. He had missed that voice, had missed the deep warmth of it, the ironic edges, the gentle caress of his words that spoke of his love without ever mentioning the words themselves. Mulder thought he could listen to that voice for the rest of his life, and he was determined to try to make that plan come true.

There was another R.O.U.S. following them, running parallel to the first one, flanking them.

"Walter - "

"Shh. It's all right - I'm watching them. Shall I finish my story? Will it take your mind off them?"

"Yes. No. Tell me what's going to happen when we get out of this place."

Walter turned and smiled at Mulder and held out his hand. Mulder took it, feeling the reassuring squeeze. "My ship is waiting on the other side. We'll enter it and then my crew will take us back to our headquarters. We will take a long, hot shower, put on clean clothes, eat a large breakfast, and then crawl into bed and sleep for at least a day. Then we will talk, and I will show you everything I've learned. Everything, Mulder. And then we'll decide what to do with the rest of our lives."

Mulder smiled. "I like that plan."

Before he had a chance to say anything else, a R.O.U.S. suddenly attacked Walter from a tree branch, sinking its giant teeth into his shoulder. The other one followed, diving towards the injured man. In his surprise, he had dropped the sword and Mulder snatched it up, swinging at the second R.O.U.S. to keep it from reaching Walter. The R.O.U.S. circled him warily, making little noises that sounded like a cross between fear and anger and hunger. Mulder held the unfamiliar weapon steady, not allowing himself to be distracted by either the R.O.U.S. or the sounds of the struggle behind him. It sounded like Walter was keeping the rodent from any vital spots and was rolling with it, heading towards one of the firepits. The rodent facing Mulder must have sensed his momentary distraction for it charged but Mulder held his ground and thrust quickly, piercing the R.O.U.S. through the body and pulling the sword free again. The rodent staggered, tried for another charge, and Mulder stabbed it again. He saw with satisfaction that it fell over, twitched, and moved no more.

He swung around in time to see Walter roll right over a flame with the rodent, and the beast shrieked as its fur ignited. Walter pulled free of it and pulled the knife from his belt, thrusting the blade into the heart of the beast.

He struggled to his feet, breathing heavily, and looked around for Mulder. He saw him standing a few feet away, holding a sword that dripped with blood from the beast he had fought, and Walter smiled broadly.

"Good job, Mulder," he said warmly. "You're a natural at this."

Mulder paid no attention to his words, crossing to look at the wound that bled sluggishly. "I need to bandage this up - "

"We need to move away from here first," Walter cautioned. "The smell of their blood will draw others."

Mulder nodded and slid under Walter's injured shoulder, wrapping his arm around the other man's waist to offer him support. Walter thought about telling Mulder that he wasn't that badly injured but this felt so nice that he just smiled and went along with it. Once they were a sufficient distance away, Mulder made Walter sit down while he pulled off his own sweatshirt and tore strips off the bottom of it. Ripping off one of the sleeves, he used it to clean the wound as best he could, then made the other sleeve into a pad and bound it onto the shoulder with the long strip he had torn.

"You do that well," Walter commented.

"I've been on the receiving end so often - I must have picked up some of it," Mulder said in an attempt at a light-hearted quip. Walter laughed, then reached out to snag the tousled head and pressed a soft kiss on Mulder's lips. Mulder allowed a short and enthusiastic response, then pulled back and hauled Walter to his feet.

"Come on, my fierce warrior. We still have a ways to go and I, for one, will be glad to see the end of this swamp."

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

He should have known that he would regret that statement. They stumbled out of the swamp an hour later, filthy, tired, hungry, exhausted, but triumphant at the sight of the open land before them. And then they stopped in numb disbelief. There, before them, was Krycek and at least a hundred soldiers.

Prince Krycek studied them, noting the linked hands, Mulder's naked torso, and the remains of his sweatshirt wrapped around an injury on the big man's shoulder. His eyes narrowed. "I accept your surrender."

Walter held Mulder's hand firmly. "No one is surrendering."

"Don't be a fool," Krycek said.

"I'm not. One step and we're back in the fire swamp and you will have to come after us to capture us. We have spent hours in here - we know all its secrets. I doubt that you would have similar success."

The Prince smiled thinly and, with a gesture of his head, indicated for some of his soldiers to slip behind them and cut off their retreat back into the swamp. "Surrender."

"It will not happen!"

"Surrender!" Krycek shouted.

" _Death first!"_ Walter roared.

"Will you promise not to hurt him?" Mulder whispered.

The soft words caught the attention of both men.

"What?" Walter asked.

"What was that?" Krycek asked.

Mulder drew a deep breath, not looking at Walter. "If we surrender, freely and without struggle. If I return with you, will you swear not to hurt this man?"

Prince Krycek raised his right hand. "On the grave of my soon-to-be-dead father I swear."

"And you will see that he is taken to his ship and allowed to go free?"

"I swear."

"Then I will go with you." He turned to Walter who was staring at him with hurt and anger in his eyes and he tried to smile. "I lost you once. I cannot bear to lose you again. So long as we both live there is hope." He turned back to Krycek and, at a gesture from the Prince, crossed the ground and got into the waiting car.

Krycek turned to the Count and said softly, "As soon as we are out of sight, take him and put him in the fifth level of the Zoo of Death."

The Count smiled. "For a moment I believed you when you swore."

Krycek smiled. "Never believe me, Count. Never." He got in the car and ordered the driver to head back towards home.

Walter watched it all. He stood silently on the edge of the Fire Swamp in the bright noonday sun, watching as the one he loved drove off with the prince. He was exhausted, he had been bitten, cut, and saved the one he loved. He had risked his world and how it was gone. And for nothing, for he knew the true worth of the Prince's promises.

The Count bowed to him. "Shall we go, sir? I believe that you have a ship that you must get to?"

Walter met his eyes evenly. "We are men of action and men of the world. Lies do not become us."

"You're right," said the Count and then suddenly struck Walter alongside the head. Walter fell like a stone, and his last conscious thought was that there was something odd about the way the glove on the man's left hand fit. Almost as if he was missing a finger...

 


	9. The Festivities or The Pit of Despair

The Festivities

[I never understood the title of this chapter. I mean, what with torture and angst and death, it's not very festive. Then I discovered while doing the abridged version the first forty-five pages of this chapter are about all the parties that the betrothed couple attended: who gave them, what they wore, what they ate, and so forth. Granddaddy omitted the first forty-five pages completely when he told us the story. I made another discovery - Granddaddy was no fool. I also renamed the chapter to more correctly reflect its true content.]

 

The Pit of Despair

 

Three bodies lay sprawled around the cluttered room, ice packs clutched to each head.

Langley groaned. "As the risk of sounding cliched - who _was_ that masked man?"

Frohike winced. "Not so loud. My head feels like it's going to explode."

Byers lifted his ice pack and gingerly fingered the bump on the back of his head. "Whoever he was, he's incredibly strong."

Langley nodded. "And packs a hell of a punch. By the way, Byers - what were you _thinking_? A sword fight?"

Byers blushed slightly but said defensively, "It's all I could think of to stall him. There weren't any other weapons."

"Yeah, well you're lucky he didn't kill you."

"Yes," Frohike said slowly. "He had the opportunity to kill each of us and he didn't. He even gave me the antidote for the black oil - and left an extra vial of it with me. With that we now have a way to stop the colonists - and he must have known that."

Byers nodded. "So he's not with the Consortium or the colonists. And he went to a lot of trouble to get Mulder. Why?"

"Who besides the Consortium would want to get their hands on Mulder?" Frohike mused.

"What about Scully?" Langley suggested.

"Last time I checked, Agent Scully wasn't a six-foot-tall man. Besides, Scully knew we were going to bring him to Quantico after we got him free."

"What about the Rebel aliens?" Byers said, then his eyes widened. "The Dread Rebel-Alien Roberts!"

"Oh, hell!" said Frohike. Then he frowned. "This isn't his usual operating procedure, though. He and his men usually appear on the scene and burn everyone. This man spared all of our lives. Plus Mulder's."

"Wait!" said Byers. "Didn't Roberts abduct A.D. Skinner last year. They never did find his body."

The three men exchanged looks and Frohike nodded. "Of course. That makes a lot of sense. The man in black must be Walter Skinner."

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Walter woke up chained inside of a cage. His shoulder throbbed from the R.O.U.S. bite and his head hurt from where the Count had hit him. He ignored his discomfort momentarily to try and adjust to his surroundings. He was underground. From somewhere above him he could hear faint sounds of other caged beings. It was dark and dank and he was alone.

Shortly after his return to consciousness, the albino appeared with a tray that held bandages, healing powders and food.

"Where are we?" Walter asked.

"You are in the Pit of Despair," the albino intoned mysteriously.

"Why am I here?"

The albino shrugged and began cleaning his wound. "The Prince likes to kill things."

"Why bother healing me if I'm going to be killed?"

"It wouldn't be as challenging for him if you were weak. He likes his prey to be at the peak of health."

"Who knows I'm here?"

"Me. The Count. The Prince. The King. That's it."

"What about the soldiers that brought me here?"

"Gone."

"Gone - as in left? Or dead?"

"Dead."

Walter lay back on the floor of his cage and studied the ceiling. If the soldiers were dead, it was not unreasonable to assume that he would eventually follow. But it was also obvious that his death was not going to happen immediately, otherwise why heal him and feed him. However, considering the nature of his captors, it was certain that they would do their best to make him suffer.

Greatly.

Walter closed his eyes. There was pain coming and he had to be ready for it. He had to prepare his brain, get his mind controlled and safe from their efforts so that they would not break him. He would not let them break him.

He would hold together against anything and all.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

It had been a week since Mulder had turned his back on Walter and had gone with Prince Krycek to spare the life of the man he loved. Since then, he had been unable to eat and unable to sleep. Everything he ate came right back up again. His nights were a series of one nightmare after another, each more horrendous than the first. He had tried not sleeping at all but by the third night he was so exhausted that he fell asleep and dreamed of Walter being eaten by R.O.U.S. and woke up screaming. During the day, he sat and stared at the wall, too tired and weak to do anything but drift, unable to concentrate and surrounded by ghosts.

And it was three weeks till his wedding.

At the end of the week, he went to Prince Krycek's office and knocked on the door. Krycek called for him to enter and he did, standing by the window twisting his hands nervously.

"You look like hell, Mulder," Krycek said, frowning. The man looked like he hadn't slept or eaten for days and Krycek determined to question the servants who tended Prince Mulder. Heads would roll if he found out that they were aware of the situation and hadn't informed him. After all, Krycek was engaged to marry the most beautiful man in the world and it simply wouldn't do for that man to be seen walking around looking like death - and only three weeks before their wedding. It would reflect badly on Krycek.

"You remember when you first asked me to marry you? You gave me a choice between marriage and death, and I said, `Kill me.' You convinced me to change my mind but now I must tell you that I cannot marry you. If you tell me that I must, then I promise you that I'll be dead by morning."

Krycek was stunned. He stared at the nervous man before him, containing the anger that flared up inside him at this rejection, and said in his gentlest voice, "May I ask the reason for this decision? A week ago you were willing to marry me."

"A week ago I didn't know that Walter was still alive."

"Ah, your black-outfitted friend from the Swamp."

"Yes. I love him, and he loves me. A year ago, he disappeared and I believed him to be dead. I would never have agreed to marry you if I had known that he was still alive."

"And now you wish to be free so that you can marry the man you love."

"Yes."

Krycek smiled genially. "Then of course I won't stand in your way. I would die myself rather than cause you any unhappiness. You are free, and I hope that you and your Walter will be happy together."

Mulder nearly passed out with relief. "Thank you. I - I'm sorry that it didn't work out between us, but I am deeply grateful to you for this." He turned around to head back to his room, already thinking about what he would pack and how he would find Walter and what they would say to each other when they met.

"Mulder? I hate to mention this but - are you sure that your Walter still wants to marry you? After all, you were the one who left him. He stood there looking like a fool while you went off with another man. Now, I'm certain that he loves you and he understands you were trying to save his life, but he seemed like a very proud man."

Mulder sat down, stunned. "Yes. He is."

"Well, then why don't we make a bargain? If your Walter still wants to marry you, then I'll step aside. If he will not, then you will marry me as planned."

Mulder looked up at Krycek. "But how can I find out?"

"What about this: you write him a letter. I'll set my best satellite to send the message over and over to him on every frequency and on every channel over the next two weeks. Until we hear back from him, we will continue as planned. How is that?"

Mulder smiled. "That's very generous of you. I'll go write the letter."

"Good." Krycek crossed to stand beside Mulder and smiled a little sadly at him. "I think your Walter is a very lucky man."

Mulder flushed and gave him a quick hug. "Thanks." Then he hurried back to his room to write the letter.

Krycek stood in the corridor watching Mulder until he disappeared from sight. A smile curved his lips, but it was a cruel smile and it promised much pain for a certain man in black.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

That night they began to torture Walter. The King [CSM] did the actual pain inducing while the Prince simply asked questions and admired his father's skills.

The King really cared about pain: the whys behind the screams interested him as fully as the screams themselves. And while the Prince spent his life studying the hunt, the King preferred to concentrate his attention on toying with the prey before the kill.

"All right now," Krycek began, "I'm going to ask you some questions. All you have to do is answer them honestly and I will set you free. If you lie, I will know and then you will know pain."

"I have nothing to hide," Walter said.

"Who were the men that kidnapped Prince Mulder? Speak their names and you will be free."

"I do not know. They were of no interest to me. The only one I was concerned with was Mulder."

"And yet you spared their lives. I think that you are lying. I think that you know them very well indeed."

"I don't know their names."

The Prince sighed and nodded to the King. The King set fire to Walter's hands. Nothing permanent or disabling: he just dipped Walter's hands in oil and brought a candle close enough to set things bubbling. When Walter had screamed, "I DON'T KNOW - ON MY LIFE!" enough times he dipped Walter's hands in water and left the albino treat the wounds while the King and the Prince returned to the castle, satisfied with their progress.

Walter relaxed while the albino bandaged his fingers. He had not suffered at all - his screaming had been a total performance to please them. The minute the King had brought the candle close, Walter had dropped into a state of deep concentration and took his brain away. He thought of other things: of Mulder, and the way his hair glinted in the sunlight, and the way his eyes changed with his emotions, and the way a laugh crinkled the corners of his eyes. In his thoughts, Mulder whispered in his ears, "I love you. I only left you in the Fire Swamp to test your love for me. Is it as great as mine for you? Can two such loves exist on one planet at one time..."

He smiled and drifted to sleep, cradling his hands against his chest and dreaming of love.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Over the next week, Krycek was sorely tempted to strangle his betrothed. All he ever talked about now was Walter. Every day he asked if there was news of Walter, wondering what was taking him so long, and what he would say to Walter when he returned. On and on. Maddeningly.

So each night he had his revenge by watching Walter writhe and squirm under the King's torture. It was only fair, he thought to himself, since he was slowly being driven mad by Mulder's incessant babbling about this same man. If only Mulder would admit that he, Krycek, was the better man. But he would not. Despite given ample opportunity to see displays of the Prince's many fine attributes, the man remained blind. It was incredibly frustrating.

And the Prince was running out of time. Not only was he getting married at the end of next week, but his country was having its anniversary, and he still had to come up with a way to get a good war going so that he would have an excuse to take over the rest of the world. His father was no help at all, refusing to pay attention to anything but the torture of their prisoner. Now he was absorbed in this Machine, an ultimate torture device, and that's all he talked about. Really, between Mulder going on and on about Walter, and the King going on and on about his Machine, it was a wonder that Krycek hadn't been driven insane!

Meanwhile, Walter could barely suppress his smile. He had felt no pain, not once. He had closed his eyes and taken his brain away. He was living now most of all for Mulder. But there was no denying that there was one more thing he wanted, too.

His revenge.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"My machine is ready."

Krycek sighed and looked over at his father, smoking one of his incessant cigarettes. "I'm happy for you."

"I intend to test it tonight. Will you be present?"

Krycek rolled his eyes. He was sick to death of the machine and of Walter and of the whole matter. Tonight he would visit the upper levels of the Zoo and soothe his nerves by killing something. Pasting on a smile, he said, "Much as I love seeing you at your work, I have so much to do. Now I've got to plan this damn parade and I've still got a war to start. Some other time."

The King smiled and nodded, but secretly he was pleased. Krycek was ruthless and had the heart of a killer, but he had no appreciation of the finer arts of torture. Without his presence tonight, the King would be free to exercise his skills to their full extent. You could always concentrate much more deeply when you were alone with agony.

There was a knock on the door and Krycek braced himself. "Come in."

Mulder came into the room with a hopeful smile. "Any news?"

Krycek smiled determinedly and shook his head. "My love, I promised to tell you the second I hear a thing."

"It's only three days till the wedding."

"I'm sure that he will be here," Krycek said soothingly. "There's plenty of time. Now, why don't you go to your room and plan what you're going to say when you see him again. You must be ready - he could show up at any moment."

Mulder nodded and left, followed by the King. Krycek put his head down on the desk and sighed. Once he had conquered the world, he would build himself a nice little hunting lodge somewhere far away. Tibet, maybe. He heard they had lovely weather this time of year.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

When the King appeared with the Machine, Walter was not particularly worried. Even when he found himself strapped to a sturdy table, he found himself studying the large screen beside him with curiosity but nothing more.

It appeared to be a large game-boy or one of those personal data pads, connected to a power supply by a cable in the back and attached to his arm by a cable. The King picked up a long stylus that looked like one of those pointers his college professors had used.

"This is the Machine," said the King, patting the large device fondly. "I've spent eleven years constructing it."

"Really."

"Yes. I'm very interested in pain, as I'm sure you've gathered. In an intellectual way, of course. I've written for the more learned scientific journals on the subject. At present, I am engaged in writing a book. My book. The definitive work on pain."

"Fascinating."

The King practically beamed at him. "I knew that you would feel that way. And I must tell you that you are the strongest and the most worthy creature it has ever been my privilege to meet. I feel almost sad that, for the purposes of my book, I must destroy you."

"Thank you," Walter said ironically.

The King nodded. "Quite all right. Now, in the interest of science, you must be honest with me." He opened a notebook and set out several pens and pencils. "I must carefully track your reactions."

He set to work, securing Walter's head in a muzzle-like device so that he couldn't move. "Now, although you may not be aware of it, you have been ingesting nanocytes every time you took a drink since you arrived. These little machines have been multiplying in your blood and there are millions of the little things inside you by now." He continued securing Walter, all the while explaining his theories on pain and the attributes of the Machine.

"All right, we're ready to begin." He settled at the table and nodded to the albino, who took the pointer and moved the indicators on the control pad up to the number one, which signaled the nanocytes inside Walter's body.

Walter's world exploded into agony and his body arched against the pain. He tried to send his mind away but it slid away, down into an ocean of pain. Inside and out, Walter was being ripped apart and he could do nothing but crack along with it.

The King turned off the machine and smiled at Walter, who was barely able to focus his eyes through the receding ripples of pain. "As you know, the concept of the battery is centuries old. Your body has become like a battery. I've just drained away one year of your life. Later I'll set the gauge higher, perhaps even to five. Theoretically, five should be five times more severe than what you have just experienced. So - please be specific in your answers. How do you feel?"

Fighting against pain and anguish greater than any he had ever know, Walter moaned.

"Interesting," said the King and carefully noted it down.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Langley entered the Lone Gunmen Headquarters, disturbed at the most recent news. They had all been stunned when Mulder had shown up back in the White House, back at Krycek's side, with no sign of the man in black. So Langley had infiltrated the Consortium's headquarters, posing as a computer technician, and had listened and asked questions.

He found Byers slumped over the computer console, looking bleary-eyed, several empty soda cans around him attesting to the fact that he had hit the caffeine/sugar wall and had crashed. "Where's Frohike?"

Byers blinked at him. "You're back." Then he crashed face first into the desktop.

Langley sighed and dragged Byers into the bathroom, thrusting him into the shower and turning the cold water on full blast. Byers came fully awake, swearing in a way that Langley had never heard. He grinned and turned off the water, then headed into the kitchen to fix something for Byers to eat.

An hour later, a dry and considerably more alert Byers sat at the kitchen table and Langley tried again. "Where's Frohike?"

"Out trying to contact his sources. What did you learn?"

"Well, according to rumor, the Prince's men surrounded Mulder and Skinner when they emerged from the Fire Swamp. Mulder surrendered on the Prince's promise that Skinner's life would be spared."

Byers sighed. "We all know the worth of the prince's promises. My guess is that the Prince has him imprisoned somewhere hear the Consortium headquarters. What about Mulder?"

"According to the servants, he was a mess for the first week but he seems to have settled down. One of the servants says that he is expecting Walter to come back for him but the rest say that all the wedding preparations are proceeding as scheduled. I wasn't able to speak with him myself. However," he paused for a moment, "I met someone else you might be interested in. A black man with four fingers. Count X Rugen."

Byers' eyes lit up. "He's here? He works for the Prince?"

"His right-hand man, so they say."

"I must get to him!"

"That's not going to be easy, dude. He's with the Prince, and there are twenty guards at the gate. And their security system is state of the art - it would take a week to hack into that thing."

Byers was frustrated. "We must get in there. We need help."

"Frohike?"

"No. Walter Skinner. He's been there, knows that place inside and out. He could get us in."

"And how do you propose to find where the Prince has him?"

"By looking. It must be somewhere around the Consortium headquarters." He grabbed the van keys. "Let's go."

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

It was dusk when Mulder went to see Prince Krycek who was arguing with the head of his Security and his Chief Information Officer.

"I want more men at the gate. And I want all the satellite systems hooked into the church. The wedding is tomorrow at sunset and I want it broadcast over every one of my satellites."

"All but one," Mulder corrected. Krycek looked puzzled. "The one that is broadcasting my message to Walter."

Krycek blinked at him for a moment. "Of course not that one. How forgetful of me."

But in his silence and his blink, Mulder had seen the truth. Krycek dismissed the men and prepared for the feathers to start flying.

"The message was never sent," Mulder said when they were alone. "Don't bother lying to me any more."

"Whatever I did was for your own good, my love."

"Somehow I don't think so."

"Look, you're nervous and you've got a right to be. We're getting married tomorrow."

"You couldn't be more wrong. I'm very calm. And it doesn't matter if you sent the message or not - Walter will come for me."

Krycek sighed. "You're very silly."

Mulder snorted. "I may be silly, but _you_ are a coward."

Prince Krycek laughed. "The greatest hunter in the world, and you say I'm a coward?"

"Yes. And when I say that you are a coward, I mean that you are the weakest thing to ever walk the Earth. He will come for me and you will be helpless for all your hunting skills. Walter and I are joined by the bond of love, and you cannot track that. Not with a thousand bloodhounds, and you cannot break it, not with a thousand swords."

"You shouldn't say things like that," Krycek snarled and swooped down on Mulder, dragging him down the hallway to his room and thrusting him inside. He locked the door from the outside, then started running for the Consortium Headquarters, for the entrance to the Zoo of Death. Down he plunged, down to the fifth level, throwing open the door to the cage.

The King was there, going over his notes on the previous days' activity when he had pushed the lever to five, and he looked up, startled. Krycek ignored him and strode over to Walter.

"He loves you," Prince Krycek snarled, his face inches away from Walter's. "He loves you still and you love him, so think of that. Think of this, too: in all this world, you might have been happy, genuinely happy. Not one couple in a century has that chance, no matter what the storybooks say, but you could have had it. And so, since no one has ever loved as greatly as you, I think that no one should suffer as greatly as you!"

With that, he grabbed the pointer and pushed the indicators all the way up to the top.

"Not to fifty!" cried the King, but then it was too late and the death scream had started.

It echoed through the Zoo of Death, frightening all the other captives so much that they began howling in their own distress. It echoed through the Consortium Headquarters above, shaking the building and sending the few workers remaining late to work on the World Domination Plan to flee into the streets in fear. It echoed around the Mall, through the Capital building, and down the hill. In his room, Mulder heard it and it scared him but he had no idea what it was. Outside the White House, the security guards looked at each other in fear and wonder. All throughout the city, people heard the scream, and wondered, but gave up trying to guess what it was.

Byers knew immediately.

He stopped the van and stuck his head out the window, listening intently. Langley looked at him, his skin going cold. "I don't like that sound."

"I know that sound," Byers said. "My heart made it when Suzanne Modeski was snatched away from me. It is the sound of Ultimate Suffering. The man in black - Skinner - makes it now."

Langley looked at him, puzzled. "Why do you think that?"

"The man he loves is marrying another tonight. Who else has such a good reason to suffer?"

"You have a point."

Byers turned the van in the direction of the sound but the crowds were in the way. Frustrated, he turned to Langley who whipped out a police siren and slapped it to the roof of the van. People scattered and they raced after the death scream, which was starting to fade.

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Walter lay dead by the Machine. The Prince kept the lever at the top mark long after necessary until the King said, "Done," and the albino switched off the machine.  
"And he actually called me a coward." The Prince left without another word and without another look at Walter.

The King started taking notes. Then he threw down his pen in disgust. He tested Walter briefly and shook his head. Death was not of any interest to him, only the pain. It was a real shame - he didn't come across victims like Walter every day. He turned to the albino.

"Dispose of the body."

 


	10. The Wedding

 

Byers pounded the steering wheel in frustration. The death scream had faded just as they reached this area of the city, and he had no idea which of the buildings around them might contain the imprisoned man in black. He parked the van and looked over at Langley.

"What now?" Langley asked.

"We'll have to check each of these buildings and see if we can find any clues to his location."

They got out of the van and, on a whim, Byers grabbed the sword that he had stuck in the van after his encounter with the man in black. With any luck, he would run into the Count and be able to settle his score with the four-fingered-man.

The first building they entered gave them no clues, although they got quite a few wild looks because of the sword. However, when they entered the second building, they found the albino standing in the elevator lobby with a wheelbarrow. The two men exchanged a look.

"That's one of the Prince's servants," Langley murmured to Byers. "He takes care of Krycek's Zoo of Death."

"And I'll bet that's where we'll find Walter Skinner." He approached the albino, sword in hand. "Excuse me, but we're looking for a man in black who was kidnapped by Prince Krycek. Have you seen him?"

Langley rolled his eyes at this but the albino shrugged and nodded.

"Is he in this building?" Another shrug and a nod, and Byers turned to Langley. "Talkative fellow, isn't he?" He turned back to the albino. "Where is he?" The albino shook his head.

Langley looked at the albino speculatively. "Let me jog his memory. I've been wanting to practice a new martial arts movement for the next time we have to rescue Mulder." He went into a complicated looking martial arts stance.

The albino fainted. Byers glared at Langley. "Nice move, Karate Kid."

At that moment, the elevator door opened and they exchanged a look, shrugged, and stepped into the elevator. Byers perused the buttons. "Zoo of Death - Level 1, Level 2, Level 3, Level 4, Level 5 (Pit of Despair)." He looked at Langley. "My guess would be Level 5." He pressed the button and the elevator doors closed.

 

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Byers examined the body. "He's dead," he said quietly.

He didn't want to be his usual quiet, controlled self. He wanted to throw back his head and howl at the unfairness of the universe. He wanted to scream at the sheer perversity of life. After all they had gone through, after everything they had done, after he had finally found the man who took Suzanne Modeski, after figuring out who the man in black was and then actually finding him - to end like this.

[I must admit that the first time we heard this story we nearly assaulted Granddaddy at this point. We insisted that he had read the story wrong, that Walter was faking it, and one of my brothers swore it was the stupidest story he had ever heard. I, myself, was livid and wanted to know who killed Krycek. When Granddaddy said that Krycek lived, I realized - at the ripe old age of six - that Life Was Unfair. That was, of course, the first time we heard the story. Every time after that, we would just smile at each other, a secret sort of smile.]

Langley looked around at the equipment, studying the control pad. "Just goes to prove what my mother told me."

"What's that?"

"Videogames can kill you."

Byers ignored him. "I do not accept this," he said finally, and looked at Langley. "Get the wheelbarrow. We're taking him with us. And let's just hope we can get a miracle."

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The sign outside the small, nondescript building said Miracle Labs. Byers pounded on the door and, after what seemed to be an eternity, a window in the door opened and a small man with red hair looked out.

"What do you want?"

Byers stared. "Aren't you Pendrell? The former lab geek?"

"Yes, I was - until Chris Carter decide to have me killed off. Thank you _so_ much for reminding me - would you like to give me a paper cut and pour lemon juice on it?" He started to slam the window shut.

"Wait! We need a miracle. It's very important."

"I'm retired," said Pendrell. "Besides, you wouldn't want someone that CC got read of - I might kill whoever you want me to miracle. Particularly if he is a major character or recurring guest star."

"He's already dead."

"He is, huh?" Pendrell was interested. "I'm good at dead. I was dead myself once." He opened the door. "Bring him in - but I make no promises."

Byers and Langley hefted the man in black out of the wheelbarrow and carried him into the Lab. "No wonder Mulder calls him 'big guy'," Byers muttered, panting under the bulk of the heavily muscled man.

Langley snorted. "Byers, you are so naive. That is _not_ why he calls him 'big guy'."

They laid him on the lab table and Pendrell poked at the body. "Not so stiff as some," he said. He proceeded to check the body over, making comments to himself as he did so.

Byers fidgeted impatiently, checked his watch, and fidgeted some more. "Excuse me, but we're in a bit of a hurry."

"Don't rush me, geek-boy. You rush a miracle man and you get lousy miracles." He completed his analysis and turned to the two men. "Well, you're in luck. Your friend here is only _mostly_ dead. If he were totally dead, the only thing you could do would be to throw a hell of a party and charge it to his account. But with mostly dead, there's still a chance. However," and he fixed Byers with an intent stare, "you have yet to tell me why I should do this. I mean, A.D. Skinner hardly noticed me when I was alive last time. Now, if it was for a worthy cause - "

Byers said eagerly, "Oh, this _is_ a worthy cause! He has a wife and children who need him - "

"Boy, are you a terrible liar! Skinner's been divorced for years and never had any children. Even us guys in the lab knew that." He picked up an old-fashioned bellows and inserted one end into the body's mouth. "So we'll just ask the deceased." He pumped the bellows and Walter's chest rose as it filled with air. He removed the bellows and leaned down next to Walter's ear. "Hey, you! Skinner! What have you got here that's worth coming back for?"

He pressed down on Walter's chest and through the still-open lips came the words, "Trrruuu Looovvv."

Byers beamed and practically bounced on his feet. "There! You heard him - he said `true love'. What could be a more worthy cause than that?"

Pendrell looked put out. "True love is the most worthy cause there is, but that's not what he said. He said TR LoV, which stands for `Transfer Location of Variable Resources' which is one of those FBI forms for shuffling non-field agents from one facility to another. Why should I bring him back to fill out more paperwork? He'd rather remain dead, believe me!"

"Liar!" A petite redheaded figure burst out of the lab door behind Pendrell and he cringed. "Liar! He said `True Love' and you know it!"

"Agent Scully?" Langley asked, surprised.

Scully looked at them. "Hi, guys."

"What are you doing here?" Byers asked. "I thought you were at Quantico since the X-Files were shut down - again."

"I've been moonlighting here," she explained. "Pendrell and I have been analyzing that retrovirus antidote that Frohike brought me." She swung on Pendrell again, giving him one of her famous Looks, and he cringed. "And he can do it, but he's just lost his confidence since Chris Carter killed him off."

"Don't say that name!" Pendrell tried to leave the room, to escape from Scully into the lab, but she got between him and the door.

"Carter! Carter! Carter!" Scully said loudly.

He clapped his hands over his ears, turning away from her. "I'm not listening to you!" He started humming.

Byers had had enough of this. Loudly, he said, "This is the man that Mulder loves. If he lives, Mulder will leave Prince Krycek!"

Pendrell pulled his hands away from his ears. "CC likes Krycek and it's not fair - I'm cuter than him."

Byers didn't want to debate the issue but he knew an opening when he saw it. "If Mulder leaves Krycek on his wedding day, Krycek will suffer humiliations galore. He won't be able to face anyone again. He'll probably take to his room with a couple gallons of Ben&Jerry's and put on fifty pounds."

Pendrell grinned. "I'll do it!"

"Hurrah!" Scully said, throwing her arms around Pendrell and bestowing a kiss on him.

Bemused but grinning idiotically, Pendrell wheeled Walter's body into the main lab. Byers paced and watched as Pendrell and Scully proceeded to take a sample of Walter's blood and then analyzed it under the microscope. They conferred for a long time, and then Pendrell disappeared into his office. He returned with a small handheld device that he inserted into a computer cradle and hooked up some cables from the computer to Walter's arm. Then he and Scully went back to the computer and conferred.

Finally, Pendrell came back out to them with a smile. "Good news. We got the nanocytes in his blood reprogrammed to accept this control pad as its primary controller. When you turn it on, it will stimulate the nanocytes and bring him back to life."

Byers reached for the pad. "Then let's turn it on."

"Wait!" cautioned Pendrell. "The battery life of this pad is only two hours. At the end of that time, you'll need to plug it in and recharge it. It'll take a couple days of this to get him back to full strength."

"A couple days!" Byers said, aghast. "We don't have that long! The wedding's in two hours! What parts can we expect to have in working order in two hours?"

"His brain, certainly, and his tongue. With a little luck and a gentle nudge in the right direction, he may be able to walk."

Byers and Langley exchanged a look of despair.

"Okay," said Byers finally. "It's not like we have a choice. Let's get him back in the wheelbarrow and into the van."

Between the four of them, they got him in the van, and then Pendrell handed them the control pad and the power cradle.

"Well, off you go."

Scully hugged both of them and then, for good measure, hugged Pendrell. "Good luck storming the White House, boys."

They watched the van drive off and Pendrell, greatly daring, slipped an arm around Scully's waist. She looked at him.

"Do you think they have a chance?"

Pendrell shrugged. "It would take a miracle."

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

An hour and a half before the wedding, Prince Krycek summoned the captain of his guard to his chambers. Spender came immediately, shaking a little in dread of what Krycek's orders might be.

Krycek was dressed in his tuxedo for the wedding already and knew he looked great so he was in a cheerful mood. "Report, Spender."

"All the entrances have been sealed, there are twenty guards at the front gate. There is only one key to the front gate, and I have it."

"Good," Krycek said. "Because I've heard a rumor that there will be an attempt to kidnap Prince Mulder during the ceremony." He really hadn't heard any such rumor but he loved to yank Spender's chain.

The young man swallowed convulsively. "Sir, I promise that I will not allow anything to happen to Prince Mulder." He didn't particularly like Mulder, but he liked living and he was willing to do anything to stay alive.

"I want the guard doubled, and I want you to see to it personally."

"Yes, Your Highness. I will rush to the gate and fight, to the death if necessary!"

"Good man," said the Prince. If there were an attack - which he doubted, but it never hurt to be too careful - it would come during the wedding. He decided to move the wedding up by half an hour.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The man in black was nearly stiff by the time they reached the security barriers that had been erected to separate the White House from Lafayette Park and Langley was exhausted from pushing the wheelbarrow for several blocks.

"Let's lean him against this wall in the shadows," Byers said, and they hoisted him out of the wheelbarrow.

"Should we start it up now?" Langley asked.

Byers consulted his watch. "It's an hour till the wedding. That should be enough time." He pulled out the control pad and turned it on. "I wonder how long this takes."

Walter's eyes popped open immediately. "Couldn't beat me alone so you're ganging up on me? Well, I beat you each apart, I'll beat you both together."

"You're alive!" Langley cried.

Walter sat immobile, just his mouth moving, looking like a ventriloquist's dummy. "That's is perhaps the most childishly obvious remark I have ever heard. Why won't my arms move?"

"You've been dead most of the day," Byers explained.

"We had Pendrell create a device to bring you back to life."

"I can't move my legs either."

"That will come. Pendrell said the tongue and brain would be the first."

"Pendrell? Isn't he dead?"

"He was. He's really good at what he does," Langley explained.

"The last thing I remember I was dying, so why am I on this wall? Are we enemies? Have you got names? I'm the Dread Rebel-Alien Roberts, but you can call me Walter Skinner."

"Langley. Hey - you just wiggled your fingers! That's wonderful!"

"I've always been a quick healer."

"John Byers. We're friends of Mulder's. Let me explain - " He stopped and shook his head. "No. There's too much, it would take too long. Let me summarize. The wedding is at six, which gives us an hour to get in, steal Mulder, and get out. And I have to kill Count Rugen."

"What are our liabilities?"

"There's only one working gate and it's guarded by twenty men."

Langley looked over at the gate. "More like fifty now."

"What are our assets?" He was happier than he should be, perhaps, but he had just discovered he could wiggle his toes.

"Your brains, Langley's hacking skills, my sword."

Walter stopped wiggling his toes. "That's it? That's all? The grand total?"

Byers tried to explain. "We've been operating under a terrible time pressure. Just this morning, for example, you were dead."

"It's impossible," said Walter in despair. "Mulder's going to marry Krycek and I'm _helpless_."

"You're giving in too easily," Byers said. "We've risked everything because you have the brains to conquer problems."

"If I had a month to plan, maybe I might come up with something, but this." His head rocked from side to side. "I'm sorry."

"You just moved your head," Langley said, trying to be cheery. "Doesn't that make you happy?"

Walter swung his head around to glare at Langley. "My brains, your computer skills, his sword against fifty soldiers? And you think a little head-jiggle is supposed to make me happy? Why didn't you leave me to death? This is worse. Lying here helpless while my true love marries my murderer."

"I know that - once you're over your emotional outbursts - you'll come up with something," Byers said.

Skinner absently tapped his fingers on his chest. "I mean, if we even had a wheelbarrow, that would be something."

Byers looked at Langley. "Where did you put the wheelbarrow?"

"Back in the van."

"We have a wheelbarrow _and_ a van? Why didn't you list that in our assets?" Walter sat up and looked over the wall at the troops.

"You just sat up," Langley said.

Walter stared at the troops and shook his head. "What I wouldn't give for a good holographic program."

"I've got one loaded on my laptop in the van," said Langley. "Just a little one, but we have the strobe-and-smoke options."

Walter slid back down the wall and frowned in thought. "All right. I'll need a sword eventually."

"Why?" asked Byers. "You can barely lift one."

"True," Walter said. "But that is hardly common knowledge. Now, there may be problems once we're inside - "

"I'll say," Byers said. "How do we stop the wedding? Once we do, how do I find the Count? Once I do, how will I find you again? Once we're together, how do we escape? Once we escape - "

"Don't pester him with so many questions," Langley said. "He's had a hard day."

"Right, right, sorry," Byers said.

The man in black was moving very slowly now along the wall. By himself, with Byers in front of him and Langley behind, in the direction of the van. There was no denying that there was a certain excitement in the air.

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Mulder felt no excitement. He was dressed in his wedding tuxedo, a handsome sight, sitting on the bed and staring at nothing. He had never remembered such a wonderful feeling of calm. His Walter was coming. Ever since the Prince had dragged him to his room, he had spent the long hours thinking of ways to make Walter happy. There was no way that Walter would miss stopping the wedding. That was the only thought that crossed his mind.

When he heard that the wedding was going to be moved up, he wasn't the least bit upset. Walter was always prepared for contingencies. If he could rescue Mulder at six, he could just as easily rescue him at five-thirty.

So when Prince Krycek unlocked the door at 5:15, he rose calmly and followed the Prince into the hallway. Without a word, he followed Krycek down the corridor and down the stairs to the main ballroom that had been converted into a wedding chapel for the occasion.

And, at 5:25, when the screaming began outside the gate, Mulder only smiled. Here comes my Walter now, was all he thought.

 


	11. The Honeymoon

 

It was not, in point of fact, his Walter that was causing the commotion outside the gate. Walter was doing all that he could simply to walk straight towards the main gate without help. Ahead of him, Byers pushed the wheelbarrow. In the wheelbarrow stood Langley, wearing a cloak and a Klingon mask left in the van from a Star Trek convention. A microphone had been rigged inside the mask, feeding a signal to speakers in the van parked nearby, and a holographic projector had been set up outside the gate to project strobing lights all around the massive-looking figure while smoke billowed around the ground, disguising the equipment.

"I AM THE DREAD REBEL-ALIEN ROBERTS AND THERE WILL BE NO SURVIVORS." Langley said that over and over, and it boomed out over the speakers. When they got close enough, Langley ignited a flame-thrower in his hands. "YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE IS ABOUT TO BEGIN!"

The men had stood their ground until that moment but now all the stories they had ever heard about the Dread Rebel-Alien Roberts filled their minds. The front-line troops, those who had seen the remains of a Rebel attack, began to scream. And once that happened, everybody panicked and ran…

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Inside the wedding chapel, Mulder faced Krycek in front of the altar and smiled.

"Here comes my Walter now," he said softly.

"I wouldn't count on it, Mulder," Krycek said. He gestured to the organist to stop playing, and the minister stepped up to the altar.

Mulder looked at the minister and frowned. "Hey! I don't think that he can legally marry us! He's not a minister. He's not even from this fandom!"

Perry White produced a card verifying that he was an ordained minister in the Church of Elvis. Mulder shrugged. "Well, if Elvis okayed him, I guess that's good enough for me."

Krycek nodded to Reverend White. "Proceed. And - please hurry."

"A wedding shouldn't be hurried, son," Perry White cautioned. He cleared his throat and looked out over the assembled crowd, beaming happily at the prospect of getting to make a speech before a captive crowd. He loved to make speeches, and nothing was going to cut short his moment of glory. "I've been in the news business thirty-five years, man and boy, and if there's one thing I've learned it's what's important. Now, getting a scoop on a major news story is dynamite. But Love, True Love, is the most important thing in the world..."

Krycek sighed and surreptitiously looked at his watch. Five-thirty.

 

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Outside, the panic was well underway and Spender realized that he had no hope of bringing things under control. He braced himself against the main door, the key securely hidden on his person.

Byers had his sword out and pressed it against Spender's throat. "Give me the key."

"I have no key," Spender said, trying not to tremble.

Langley was approaching them, still in costume, and Byers turned to him. "Burn him to a crisp."

Spender reached inside his shirt and produced the key. "You mean this key?"

Byers unlocked the door while Langley stripped off the hot costume. Once the door was open, they pulled it shut behind them and locked it.

"It's five-forty," Byers said.

"Twenty minutes left to stop the wedding," Walter said.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

At that moment, Krycek had reached the end of his patience. Grabbing Perry White by the front of his shirt, he hissed, "Husband and consort. Say it."

"But we're not there yet."

"Now!" His hand tightened in the front of the shirt and Perry White's eyes bugged out. This was the last time, he swore, the last time he ever performed a wedding ceremony. If it wasn't homicidal jilted brides it was homicidal bridegrooms. It just wasn't worth it.

"Husband and consort. You're married."

"Thank you," said Prince Krycek, whirling around and pointing at Count X Rugen. "Stop that noise!"

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Byers strode impatiently down the corridors of the White House, looking for either the wedding party or the Count. He hadn't found either and he was beginning to get frustrated. Behind him, Langley was propping Walter up as he tried to walk on rubbery legs.

Suddenly, Count X Rugen and four of the honor guards rounded a corner and faced them. The Count halted, disbelieving. There was Walter Skinner - he had heard that he was dead but here he stood, very much alive. Beside him stood a scrawny looking blond with glasses, and a dark-haired man who looked vaguely familiar.

"Kill them," he said to his men. "But leave the dark-haired fellow for me."

The four honor guards drew their dress swords - the only weapon they had worn to the wedding - and advanced but they were too late. Byers attacked, the blade blinding in its movement, and the fourth guard was dead before the first one had hit the floor.

The Count stared at the dark-haired man in disbelief.

Byers had been waiting for this moment, and he drew himself to his full height. "Hello. My name is John Fitzgerald Byers. You kidnapped Suzanne Modeski. Prepare to die."

In reply, the Count did a genuinely remarkable and unexpected thing. He turned and ran.

 

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Mulder walked slowly down the corridor behind the King as he escorted the younger man to his room.

Walter had not come.

He sighed, a terrible sigh that came from deep inside his soul. There was only reason why Walter would not come. Because he could not. And if Walter could not come to him, then he would go to Walter.

He had never seriously considered suicide before this. He had thought about it, from time to time, but never seriously. To his surprise, he found it was going to be the easiest thing in the world.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Byers was startled to see the Count's cowardice and stood for a moment, mouth open in surprise. The he gave chase, but the Count darted through a door and slammed it shut behind him. Byers pounded at the door, at the cardkey reader, and hollered.

"Langley! Langley, I need you!"

Langley looked at Walter, leaning at an odd angle against the wall, and said, "I'll be back in a minute." He went down the hallway and saw Byers trying to break down a door.

"He's getting away, Langley!"

Langley studied the cardkey device for a moment, then pulled out his wallet and selected a card. He swiped it through the reader and it turned green. With a flourish, he gestured for Byers to enter. Then he turned back to get Walter.

Walter was gone.

 

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Byers was gaining. He could catch fleeting glimpses of the Count as he pursued him around one bend and through countless doors. And then, finally, he cornered him in the Great Dining Room.

What he didn't know was that the Count had a gun and the Count didn't play fair. So as he entered the room, he was started by the sudden crack of a gun and felt the searing pain in his gut. He staggered backward into the wall, slid down it, feeling the life force seeping out of him.

"Suzanne," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

And then he slumped lifelessly to the floor.

 

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Mulder entered his room and opened the adjoining door that he knew would now be unlocked, the door to Krycek's room. He walked in and calmly surveyed the collection of knives, daggers, and swords hanging on the wall.

He chose a Florentine dagger, very sharp and pointed at one end, triangular in design for quicker bleeding. He pulled it from the wall and looked at it for a long moment. Then he carried it back into his room, set it down on the dressing table and sat down in the chair. For a moment he stared into his reflection, giving himself the courage to continue. Then he picked up the dagger and placed it against his skin, angled to pierce his heart.

"I'll be with you soon, Walter," he murmured.

 

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Byers groaned and pushed himself to a sitting position. His stomach hurt and he felt a strange singing sensation in his body, a feeling of being aware of every nerve and muscle for the first time. As if his body was reacquainting itself with all its parts.

Memory came back, and he pulled up his bloodstained shirt to stare at his stomach. There was a hole there, but it was closing before his eyes.

"Just great," he grumbled. "Now I suppose I've got to go around slicing off people's heads and causing major electrical damage." He sighed. "And all I wanted was a simple revenge." He groaned as he staggered to his feet, picking up the fallen sword.

Count X Rugen stared in disbelief as he saw another dead man come back to life. "Now I remember you. You're one of the men who were in the warehouse. Have you been chasing me all this time?"

Byers said nothing. His body was weak, still recovering from his first death, but he slowly approached the Count. "Hello. My name is John Fitzgerald Byers. You kidnapped Suzanne Modeski. Prepare to die."

The Count retreated, backing away from the pursuing Fury before him.

Byers continued to stalk him, his sword arm coming up now, his voice stronger. "Hello. My name is John Fitzgerald Byers. You kidnapped Suzanne Modeski. Prepare to die."

The sword flashed forward, and there was a cut down one side of the Count's cheek.

"Stop saying that!" The Count was beginning to get nervous.

It flashed again, and there was a parallel cut on the other cheek.

"Hello! My name is John Fitzgerald Byers. You kidnapped Suzanne Modeski. Prepare to die!"

"No - "

Byers had trapped the Count against the banquet table and his sword toyed with the Count. "Offer me money."

"Everything I have!"

The sword pierced his right shoulder. "Power, too."

"All I have, and more."

The sword pierced the left shoulder. "Suzanne Modeski's location."

The Count grabbed a cocktail napkin and scribbled on it frantically, thrusting it at Byers. "Here! Take it! What else do you want?"

Byers eyes glittered, his new awareness making them hard. "Give me my life back, you son of a bitch." And this time, the sword pierced the heart.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Mulder took a deep breath and closed his eyes, preparing to thrust the dagger home.

"There are too few perfect chests in this world. It would be a shame to ruin yours."

The dagger dropped from his hands and he spun around. There, reclining on the bed, was his Walter. He lay propped up on Mulder's pillows, smiling at him across the room, a sword lying on the bed beside him.

Mulder flew across the room and threw himself on his very own darling Walter, raining kisses over the beloved face.

"Gently," Walter said, or tried to say, around kisses that were pressed to his lips by his deliriously happy lover.

"At a time like this, that's all you can think to say?"

" _Gently_ ," Walter repeated, not so quietly this time, and winced a little as wandering hands stroked parts that were not yet accustomed to being alive again.

Mulder sat up, pouting. "Are you angry at me, Walter?"

"Should I be, Mulder? What crazy thing did you do this time?"

"I got married. I didn't mean to. There was this crossover minister, and everyone outside was screaming - "

"It never happened."

"But I heard him say 'husband and consort'."

"It didn't happen," Walter said firmly. "Did you say 'I do'?"

Mulder frowned, trying to remember. "No. They kind of skipped that part."

"Then you didn't marry Krycek. Not in this church or any other. Isn't that right, Prince Krycek?"

Prince Krycek entered and, if he was a little stunned to see the man that he had killed earlier that day alive again, he hid his surprise well. "Well, it appears that I didn't kill you sufficiently the first time. A mistake I intend to rectify. I challenge you to a duel to the death."

Walter shook his head. "No. To the pain."

Krycek frowned. "I don't quite understand you."

"Then I'll explain. To the pain means that the first things you lose are your feet below the ankles. Then your hands, at the wrist. Next your nose."

"Then my tongue - I get the pattern."

"Then your eyes, first the left and then the right."

"And then my ears. Can we get on with it?"

" _Wrong_!" Walter's voice rang out, clear and strong. "Your ears you get to keep, so that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every woman that cries, 'Dear God, what is that thing?' will ring forever in your perfect ears. _That_ is what to the pain means. It means that I leave you in anguish and freakish misery for the rest of your life."

"You're bluffing," Krycek said, but his voice carried a hint of uneasiness. The vision that Walter had created of the destruction of his body was stark and compelling.

"Possibly. I might be bluffing. I could be lying here right now because I lack the strength to stand. If you drop your sword, I will leave with this baggage here," and he glanced at Mulder with an amused glint in his eyes, "and you will be tied up but not fatally injured. Otherwise - " he shrugged.

"I don't believe you," Krycek said, but his voice shook.

Walter slowly and deliberately stood up, then pointed his sword directly at Krycek's heart. "Drop your sword!"

The sword crashed to the floor.

"Sit down." Walter gestured with his sword to a chair and Krycek practically flung himself into it. "Mulder, tie him up tightly."

"Um, Walter, I'm not very good at knots. Why don't you - "

"Mulder!" Walter roared. "You are the property of the Dread Rebel-Alien Roberts and you will do as you are told!"

Mulder jumped up from the bed and quickly secured Krycek to the chair. He was just finishing the last knot when Byers burst into the room. Mulder stared at the blood on Byers' shirt.

"What happened to you?"

"Long story. I'll tell you later." He turned to Walter. "The Consortium forces will be swarming before long. We've got to get out. Where's Langley?"

"Isn't he with you?" Walter asked, then groaned and sagged down onto the bed.

Byers looked at Mulder. "Help him."

Mulder looked puzzled. "Why does he need help?"

"Because he has no strength and his battery runs out in - "Byers consulted his watch. "Fifteen minutes."

"I _knew_ you were bluffing!" Krycek said triumphantly. "I'll hunt you down, Skinner! You can get away from me this time, but not for long!"

Walter braced himself with one arm around Mulder's shoulder and grinned at Krycek. "I am the Dread Rebel-Alien Roberts! I await you with pleasure!" He turned to Byers and gripped his shoulder. "Did you win your battle?"

Byers' eyes met his and there was an exchange of knowledge between the two men. "I did. And I got the information I wanted as well."

"Good. Then let's get out of here before all hell breaks lose."

"I hope someday someone explains to me just what in hell happened here!" Mulder complained.

From outside the window, they heard the insistent honking of a horn. All three hurried to the window and saw the van pulled up in front, Langley leaning on the horn.

"Langley! There you are!" Byers said, pleased to see his comrade.

"We've got to get out of here, guys," Langley called. "Frohike says that Consortium reinforcements are on their way, and the regular army is on the way to fight the Consortium. It's going to get ugly around here, guys."

Walter nodded, and the three climbed out of the window and raced into the van. Langley threw it into gear and roared out of the driveway, scattering security people to all sides.

Walter collapsed on the bench seat in the back of the van while Byers plugged the control pad into an adapter for the cigarette lighter. Walter sighed as he felt the energy start to slowly build back up inside.

"So, Byers, what are you going to do now that you've ended your quest?" he asked.

Byers smiled and held up a piece of paper. "Suzanne. I'm going to get her out of wherever this is that they have her. I imagine we'll all be pretty busy over the next year, now that the Consortium is out in the open and people are starting to fight back." He turned and looked at Mulder. "What about you? Going back to the FBI?"

Mulder shook his head. "Walter says that all the answers to my questions are at the Rebel base. After that - " He looked blank. "I don't know. I've been searching for the truth for so long that I never really thought about what I'd do after I found it."

Walter turned his head and studied the face of the man he loved so close to his own, felt the strength of the arm wrapped around his shoulder supporting him. Memories of the swamp came back to him, and he smiled.

"Mulder, have you ever thought about becoming a Rebel? You'd make a great Dread Rebel-Alien Roberts..."

 

The End

[Well, sort of. Granddaddy was a romantic, not a historian, so he ended his story here. But the real story was just beginning - not only the story of the Resistance against Colonization, but that of the great love of his life. But that is another story, for another book, and another time. The End. KS]


End file.
